You'll Accomp'ny Me
by Into the Nothing
Summary: While investigating the deaths of employees at an institution for the disturbed, the Winchesters partner with a hunter whose intentions may be less than honorable.  With their fifteen year old half-sister MJ along for the ride, drama ensues.  Sister fic.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hey, everyone! This is my first attempt at fanfiction. Please let me know what you think. I know the sisfic thing has been done, again and again and _again_, but I've had this idea in my head for years and just wanted to share. I hope you enjoy it. Please review.

This takes place in early season 1. Mostly AU. I don't own Supernatural, only MJ.

Chapter 1

"What smells like ass?"  
>Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't smell anything. Must be you."<br>"No, no. I smell like roses. This is full on ass."  
>"Jeez, Dean, I don't know, maybe it's the garlic wings you ate earlier."<br>Dean just shrugged as he steered the Impala down the deserted country road. It was well after midnight and they had been driving straight through since 7. Sam suspected Dean was just talking to break the awkward silence. He knew Sam was pissed at him after their argument when they stopped for dinner. Rather than just clear the air, Dean was testing the waters, bringing up random things to gauge Sam's reaction. Typical Dean. Apparently Sam's response did not inspire confidence because Dean let it drop and said nothing else, instead busying himself with searching for decent music as they drove the familiar roads to Bobby's house.

A half hour down the road, Sam closed his laptop in frustration. Even after hacking into both the Department of Health and the State's Developmental Disabilities Department websites, he couldn't find any records of mysterious or unnatural deaths at Mount Hope Center for Intensive Treatment. Sure, they had their share of run of the mill complaints about mistreatment of patients, but really no more than usual, and none that had been flagged for review. Maybe the deaths of the two employees were just random, or linked some other way that had nothing to do with the facility.  
>"Find anything?" Dean asked keeping his eyes on the road.<br>"Nothing. Plenty of people have died there. I mean, it's where they send developmentally disabled adults who are too violent or otherwise incapacitated to be cared for at home. So, it's not like they're going there to get better. Most of them go there to live out the rest of their lives."  
>Sam shook his head. How horrible to be imprisoned in your own mind, and then be sent away from your family to live in a physical prison as well.<br>"Well, just because someone dies of natural causes, doesn't mean they won't stick around as a vengeful spirit. I mean, these people are hidden away, and basically forgotten. That sounds like the makings of a restless afterlife to me."  
>Sam shrugged. "Maybe."<br>"We need to go to Tupper Lake and dig around. Talking to staff, maybe some locals is gonna tell us a hell of a lot more about the people who've lived and died there than the Internet can."  
>"I guess. But we need Bobby's help. These places are like prisons, Dean. Beyond maximum security in some ways."<br>"Why? They're not criminals."  
>"Well, some of them did commit crimes, but they can't go into the prison system." Sam averted his eyes away from his brother and stared out the windshield. "This one guy, he's still there, he left his house without anyone knowing, went down the road and snapped two little girls' necks who were playing in their own back yard. His mother was devastated Said she only left him alone for a minute."<br>"Jesus Christ." Dean mumbled.  
>Sam just sighed to himself and looked over his seat. MJ was curled up on the back seat, her head resting on her forearms. Her reddish-brown hair fell over her face, making her look ten-years-old again.<br>"She still out?" Dean asked.  
>"Yup."<br>They were silent for a moment, Dean giving up on the radio and snapping it off. "I'll tell you one thing, MJ's sitting this one out, whether she likes it or not. These guys are like animals, no self control. I'm not having her around that."  
>Sam smirked. In the 6 months MJ had been hunting with them, she had never once stayed behind without a fantastic fight. "Good luck."<p>

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

They arrived at Bobby's house around two in the morning. Sam shook MJ awake before grabbing the bags Dean was handing him from the trunk. MJ stumbled out of the car, rubbing her eyes. She wobbled as she trudged toward the front door.

Sam chuckled, catching up with her. "You gonna make it?"  
>She grunted in response, pulling her messy hair away from her face. Bobby met them at the door.<p>

"Hey, there. Safe trip?" he asked smiling at MJ. She grinned back and hugged him as he nodded hello to Sam and Dean over her shoulder.

"Whose chopper?" Dean asked eying the motorcycle parked near the porch appreciatively.

Bobby released MJ and relieved Sam of some of the bags.

"Scotty McWhorter. Hunter from Vancouver. He's crashing for a few days. Got banged up cleaning out a vamp nest not too far from here. Told him he could stay and rest up for a while."

"Hmm." Dean said now practically salivating as he slowly circled the bike. "Never heard of him."

"Doesn't usually come state side, but we've shared some Intel in the past." Bobby held the door for Sam and MJ as they made their way inside. "Dean?" he called still holding the door open.

Dean looked up and reluctantly moved away from the bike and toward the house.

Bobby led them all into the living room. "Scotty's got the big guest room, so two of you will have to sleep here." He nodded toward the couch and cot, made up with blankets and pillows as he placed the bags on the floor.

"MJ, you can take the bedroom. Dean and I'll bunk here." Sam said handing her bags to her.

"No." Dean cut in. He looked at Sam. "Those rooms are adjoining, and uh, I don't know this McWhorter character. She stays with one of us." He turned to Bobby. "No offense, just being cautious."

"None taken. Those Canadians can be suspect for sure." They all turned to the man who had spoken from the entryway to the room. He had a slow, measured gait and a slight smirk on his face. His dark brown hair brushed the shoulders of his worn flannel shirt that he wore open over a tight, dark gray t-shirt. His dark wash jeans and cowboy boots bore the scars of many years of wear. He sported a large, fading bruise around his left eye and a small silver cross dangling from his right ear.

He never lost the smirk as he approached them, extending his hand to Dean. "Scotty McWhorter." he said.

Dean still looked slightly taken aback as he clasped Scotty's hand. "Dean Winchester. My brother Sam and sister Mary Jane" he said, nodding toward them.

Scotty turned and shook Sam's hand while nodding toward MJ. "Pleasure." he said smirking at MJ. He walked toward her, smirk still firmly in place until he was only a foot from her. Dean took half a step toward them when Scotty leaned in toward her, only to reach around her grabbing a leather jacket from the back of the couch behind her. He straightened up turning toward the men.

"So," he announced, "as it turns out I've gotta run out for a few hours." He shrugged. "I guess the lady will be safe in her bed." He turned his head back toward MJ as he put on his jacket. "At least for tonight," he said in an undertone, winking at her.

MJ, still in her post sleep stupor, just looked after him silently, her cheeks burning, as he walked out the front door. No one spoke for a few moments. Then MJ gathered up her bags and stomped toward the stairs. She stopped on the first step and turned toward them.

"Thanks a lot Dean!" she yelled before disappearing up the stairs.

Bobby and Sam looked at Dean sympathetically.

"I'm not even gonna pretend to know what I did wrong." Dean said sitting on the cot to remove his boots.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

MJ woke early the next morning, having slept the entire car ride here the night before. The house was quiet as she lay there enjoying having a bed to herself. She wondered idly how many fifteen year old girls had to share a bed with their brothers. Twisted. Well, that was the least of it if she was being honest. Tracking monsters for a living while searching for your missing father was definitely up there on the "Top 10 Reasons MaryJane Hanson is NOT Normal" list. That fact sort of dwarfed other list items, such as "home schooled", "crack addict, absent mother" and "never had a boyfriend", she thought. She'd like to blame Dean for that last one, considering he'd scared off any boy who was ever remotely interested. But she knew that wasn't entirely fair. She immediately found fault in every guy who so much as spoke to her. She rolled onto her back, not wanting to continue with that particular train of thought.

She wondered if Sam and Dean were speaking directly to each other yet. They'd had it out at dinner the night before. No place like a busy _Hooter's_ to air the family's dirty laundry. She had been in the bathroom and missed the beginning, but the gist of it seemed to be that Sammy wanted to head back to Stanford to try and dig deeper for clues to the demon that killed Jessica. The trail had run cold, and for the past three months they had been blindly following Dad's cryptic text messages. Dean disagreed, to no one's surprise, wanting to keep following Dad's orders. She had left to wait in the car around the time Sam told Dean he had no idea how to think for himself and Dean called Sam a selfish bastard. What went on after that she didn't know, but here they were, looking for information on the facility whose coordinates had been texted to them three days ago, presumably from Dad. She doubted Dean had actually made a winning argument and swayed Sam. More like Sam was tired of fighting and gave in. For now.

She tried to wrap her head around the idea that her father actually knew how to send a text message while she showered and dressed. He wasn't really technologically advanced. Although he could build an EMF Meter, so he wasn't hopeless.

She stood in her room, blow drying her hair in front of the tiny mirror on the wall. Bobby had added mirrors to all the rooms during their last visit, after finding her sitting in one of the junk cars, using the rearview mirror to put on her eye makeup. He hadn't said a word, just set about hanging mirrors in the bathroom and two bedrooms. She grinned at the memory.

That's when she noticed someone leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching her. She gave an involuntary jump before turning around. She instinctively crossed her arms over her chest, even though she was decent, wearing jeans and a tank. Scotty just stood there, staring at her. She was beginning to wonder if the smirk was a permanent feature of his face.

"Something I can help you with?" she asked, slightly annoyed.

He stood up straight and took a few steps into the room. "Sorry I was creeping. I just wanted to ask you something. Bobby said you were good with computers and uh, my laptop got some kind of virus. Think you could take a look at it?" He stood in front of her, just looking at her, waiting for her answer. _At least the smirk is gone_, she thought.

She nodded. "Yeah, okay. Just bring it downstairs in a little bit and I'll see what I can do." She turned around, figuring he would take the hint and go. He just kept standing there, looking at her. "Was there something else?" she asked. The smirk returned.

"No, sorry. I just wondered if you really hunt, like Bobby said. You're so...young, eh."

"Well Bobby doesn't lie. And I'm fifteen, but I haven't been at it long." she shook her head. "I don't really want to get into it right now. You can wait for me dowstairs." She turned deliberately back toward the mirror.

"'You got it," he said, the smirk still firmly in place as he turned and left the room.

She tried to concentrate on finishing her hair, while she ran their short conversation over and over in her head. It hadn't escaped her notice he was wearing the same clothes as last night. He still had his coat on, and she got the impression he had just come in. Where does someone go at two in the morning and not come back until nearly nine? She threw a hoodie on and headed downstairs. As she walked past the livingroom she saw both her brothers' makeshift beds empty. She walked into the kitchen, where Dean was seated at the table along with Bobby, having coffee and discussing the new case. Sam was at the stove, scraping an egg off the bottom of the frying pan.

She walked over and reached across him. "See this knob? It has other settings besides 'high'. If you turn it down, you won't burn the shit out of everything." She nudged him out of the way, taking the spatula from his hand.

He crossed his arms and watched as she attempted to salvage his breakfast, gave up and scraped it into the trash. "Go sit. You want scrambled or over easy?" she asked returning to the stove.

He grinned sheepishly. "Scrambled."

Scotty joined them as MJ cooked everyone breakfast. He and Dean started discussing motorcycles animatedly, leaving Sam and Bobby to work through the Tupper Lake case.

"The first guy, this Gene Thompson, he died two months ago. Did you look at deaths at the facility around that time?" Bobby asked as MJ set a plate of food in front of him. He gave her a nod and smile.

"Yeah, there were three in the week before Gene's death. All in different units, none who Gene would have worked directly with." Sam said, rubbing a hand over his chin in frustration. "None of them had a connection with the second victim, Sara Searles, that I can find either."

"Well then you read up on those three, go in as FBI and dig around until you figure out the connnection. Just be careful. These people died in the facility and they died bloody. This thing sees you sniffing around, it won't hesitate." Bobby said, piling eggs onto his toast.

Having already served everyone, including Scotty, who winked and - you guessed it- smirked at her, MJ sat down with her own breakfast. "So when do we leave?"

Sam grabbed his coffee and took a long drink avoiding MJ's eyes. He might have agreed with Dean about her staying behind, but he'd let Dean be the bearer of_ that _news himself.

"Uh, depends on how long the research on the three patients' backgrounds takes. Couple days, maybe." He finally answered, still not looking right at her.

"Okay." she shrugged.

"Hell, yes I'll take her for a spin!" Dean yelled, grinning like a kid at Christmas.

"Let's go." Scotty said, standing up. Dean followed suit, dropping his plate into the sink.

Dean planted a kiss on MJ's head when he walked by her. "Thanks for breakfast. I'll be back." he practically skipped out of the kitchen and to the front door, Scotty following in his wake.

"Wait. The computer?" MJ called after him.

He turned around at the doorway into the foyer. "I left it in the living room. Do you mind? I'd hate to keep your brother waiting."

She was seriously going to rip his face off if he didn't quit with the smirking. "Password?" she asked.

"Uh, I'll write it down and leave it with it." He turned and strolled to the living room. "Thanks!" he called moments later before heading out the front door.

Sam helped MJ clean the kitchen while Bobby got to work on the research. Once the dishes were put away, Sam joined Bobby, and MJ headed into the living room to start on the computer.

"Nice," she scoffed reading the password scrawled on the napkin tucked into the laptop. She typed _morning wood_ into the sign in screen still shaking her head.

MJ had heard the old adage, 'the eyes are the windows to the soul', but if you wanted to see into someone's soul, there was nothing like having unlimited access to their personal computer. Their intentions, their habits, everything, right there waiting for you to find it. She felt a strange giddiness she couldn't explain when she started clicking through his Internet history. Oh, this was gonna be good.

Please review!


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thanks to those who read and especially those who reviewed. Here's the next chapter. I still don't own Supernatural. Please enjoy!**

Chapter 2

Ninety minutes later MJ was completely aggrevated with her discoveries. She had no trouble finding and isolating the virus. Then she had installed an updated antivirus and presto. Everything was as good as new. What was driving her crazy was that she had been through all of his files and she had found...nothing. She had been sure he would have porn, skeevy purchases, messaging conversations with multiple secret girlfriends, maybe even some significant gambling debts. But no, she had found nothing even remotely sketchy about this guy. In fact, he was smart. Really smart. And dediciated to hunting. He had files for all of his hunts, both past and planned, with some really well put together research. After scrolling through photos of his nieces and nephews, she snapped the laptop shut in disgust and went out to the porch. She had gotten a creeper vibe from this guy right off the bat. Maybe her instincts were wrong. She sat on the old porch swing wondering why it mattered so much to her. It wasn't as if he'd be around much longer. Once he left, she would most likely never see him again. _It's that smirk_, she thought. It irked her. Surely anyone who smirked like that couldn't be a stand up guy.

MJ heard the familiar rumble of the Impala coming up the drive into the salvage yard, the low snarl of the motorcycle threatening to overtake it. Dean pulled up on the bike, Scotty parking the Impala next to it. Dean took his helmet off, grinning from ear to ear. _Maybe that's what the smirk's about_, MJ thought. _Riding a bike turns men into grinning fools. _

"This thing is frickin' sweet, man." Dean said getting off the motorcycle.

MJ strolled over. "Dean, seriously if you don't stop fawning over it, you're gonna hurt your 'baby's' feelings."

Dean patted the hood of the Impala. "Nah, my girl knows I love her. The bike's not competition."

Scotty laughed as he approached MJ. "How'd it go?" he asked, removing his sunglasses.

She crossed her arms, not too comfortable with how close he was standing to her. "Run of the mill Trojan virus. I took care of it. Should run fine now." She shrugged.

"Thanks. You saved me." he paused, holding her gaze. "What do I owe you?"

MJ looked over at Dean, who was now grazing his hand over the motorcycle's fender in a loving manner. She couldn't resist. She winked at Scotty and jerked her head toward Dean. "How about you take me for a ride on the bike?"

Dean's head snapped up, and he stopped petting the bike mid-stroke. "What? _Hell_ no!"

She giggled and turned toward the house. When she got to the porch she turned back. "Just change your password and we'll call it even." she called to him.

* * *

><p>That evening, Dean was grilling steaks on the back deck while Scotty and Sam kept him company. MJ was in the kitchen cooking the rest of the meal. Bobby had left to help a friend a few towns over with a haunting.<p>

Sam and Dean were filling Scotty in on the Tupper Lake case when MJ walked through the sliding glass door, three beers in hand.

"Ooh, thanks, Kid." Dean said taking the beer she offered then returning his attention to the grill.

After handing out the remaining beers, MJ turned to return inside. Sam paused, the bottle halfway to his lips, when he noticed Scotty's gaze zeroed in on MJ's retreating backside. Once back inside she bent down to retrieve something from the refrigerator all the while Scotty's eyes locked in on their target. Sam felt his cheeks begin to burn in anger.

"Dude." Sam said, nudging Scotty's shoulder. Scotty tore his eyes away from her and turned back to Sam.

"Sorry." He took a long pull from his beer before turning to Dean. "Well, you know I'm heading to Ottawa at the end of this week for a job. Tupper Lake is barely even out of the way. I'd love to tag along and help out."

Dean was hesitant. He didn't really know this guy and they weren't in the habit of teaming up with other hunters. Then again, he wasn't letting MJ anywhere near this case, so they could use the help. He was also a little concerned about Sammy's objectivity on this one. Sam seemed distracted and easily frustrated when researching this case, and he needed someone focused to watch his back once inside. He took another drink before turning to Scotty.

"That'd be great."

Over dinner, it was decided that they would leave in two days time, once Bobby returned. MJ would go along, but remain in the motel when they went to Mount Hope. She accepted this with little grace, snatching up Dean's plate while he was still eating and clearing the table as if the flatware had personally offended her. She stormed inside and began washing dishes with a vengance. Scotty, who seemed to be struggling not to burst out laughing, excused himself saying he had to run into town.

"Dean, do you really think it's a good idea to bring this guy along?" Sam asked once they were alone.

Dean shrugged looking out over the back yard. "I don't know, Sammy. He offered. We won't have MJ and we don't know exactly what we're up against." He turned back toward Sam. "It couldn't hurt."

MJ was standing at the sink, the window in front of her open, listening in on this exchange.

"Fine, but I don't want him around MJ alone." Sam blurted out.

Dean sat up a little straighter. "Why? What happened?" He asked, now on alert.

"He makes her uncomfortable."

"Don't you put words in my mouth, Sam Winchester!" MJ yelled through the window.

Sam jumped slightly, his face reddening. He lowered his voice and leaned toward Dean. "I caught him staring at her butt this afternoon for like a full minute." Sam sat back and waited for Dean's irrational anger and overprotectiveness to rear it's ugly head. It never did.

Dean could tell this was only part of what was aggravating his younger brother. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair. "What's this really about?"

"What do you mean? I just told you. God, Dean you would stab a guy if you caught him checking her out, but this guy does it right in front of us and he gets a pass? What is it about him that you're willing to put your own sister's safety on the line just to hang out with him?"

Sam knew right away he had gone too far. Dean stood quickly, his chair clattering to the floor. Dean leaned over the table, his face inches from Sam's. "Don't you _ever_ question my motives or my commitment to that girl in there. My only priority is to keep her safe." When Sam didn't respond, Dean continued. "Why don't we talk about what this is really about? You don't want McWhorter to go because you feel threatened by him. You see him as competition, when in reality, we wouldn't even need him if you would get your head in the game!"

Sam stood, toe to toe with Dean. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he shouted. "I'm here aren't I? You got your way didn't you? We're following Dad's orders like good little soldiers! Meanwhile, Dad doesn't even have the balls to step up and take care of his own fucking daughter!"

Dean lunged at Sam, catching the taller man off guard. Dean threw his shoulder into Sam's midsection, causing Sam to stumble and fall backward. Dean landed on top of him, landing a right hook to Sam's jaw. Once the shock wore off, Sam was able to easily overtake Dean, flipping him and smashing his fist into his brother's mouth.

"Stop it, stop it now!" MJ screamed running outside and pulling at Sam's shirt with all her might. Sam paused, his fist raised, and turned toward her alarmed face. He lowered his arm and stood, backing away from Dean. Dean quickly righted himself, running the back of his hand over his bleeding lip.

"What is the matter with the two of you?" MJ asked standing between them.

They just glared at each other over the top of MJ's head. After a few moments, Dean walked off the deck.

"Where are you going?" MJ called after him.

"Out!" he shouted, walking around the side of the house toward the driveway.

"Typical." Sam muttered before heading inside.

MJ righted Dean's chair and began cleaning up the potted plant that the boys had knocked over in their scuffle. She began crying, first silent tears, slowly building into sobs as she scooped handfuls of soil back into the planter. It was a Day Lily that she had bought Bobby a few weeks ago for his birthday. She tried to place the roots back into the soil, but the plant just flopped to the side. She gave up, sitting on the deck, her head in her hands.

"I forgot my phone." She looked up to see Dean coming back up the steps onto the deck. He froze mid -stride after spotting her sitting on the floor, crying.

"Shit," he breathed crossing the deck and crouching in front of her. He placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest. Dean rubbed her back, trying to console her. Sam appeared at the sliding glass door, looking guiltily at the scene before him. Dean looked up at Sam, his apology clear in his eyes. Sam accepted and extended his own regrets without ever uttering a word, before kneeling beside MJ and stroking her hair.

"We're sorry about the plant." Sam said to her.

She pulled away from Dean. "I don't care about the stupid plant! I just don't want you guys to fight like that."

"We really are sorry, Kid." Dean said brushing her hair out of her eyes.

She nodded, wiping the tears from her cheeks.

"Besides, Sam didn't do any permanent damage to my beautiful face and I actually improved his ugly mug."

MJ gave a weak smile. "Sorry for being such a baby." She said standing up.

"Hey, hey. We were the ones acting like babies." Dean told her, leading her into the house. "Why don't you go take a shower while Sam and I finish cleaning up in here?"

When she returned downstairs forty five minutes later, she found Sam and Dean in Bobby's library reviewing patient histories and floor plans like nothing had happened. She rolled her eyes as she picked out a book to read in bed.

"I'm heading up." she said approaching the table they were working at. It looked like an awful lot of information. Sammy kept shuffling papers around getting more and more disgruntled by the minute. "Unless you guys need some help." It looked like they were trying to figure out how to get into the locked wards undetected.

"No, you go ahead. We'll probably be at this for a while." Dean said, placing a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, Kid."

"Night, Sammy," she said leaning over him.

He turned toward her, planting a kiss on her cheek. "Goodnight, MJ."

Shortly after MJ headed upstairs, Scotty returned.

"The entrance to Ward B is here. Totally covered by cameras. There's no other way in or out." Sam was telling Dean, pointing to the blueprints as Scotty joined them.

"No, there's gotta be an emergency exit within the ward. It would lead directly outside. They wouldn't put it on the plans, though." Scotty said pullng the blueprint toward him.

"How can you be sure?" Sam asked, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"I spent a lot of time in juvenile detention centers growing up," he shrugged. "There's always a way out, eh." he added with a smirk. "We can case the joint, find the emergency exits and go in that way. Should be one in each of the locked wards. If you jacked these from the Mount Hope Intranet then they wouldn't show the other exits." He turned the laptop toward him and started typing, much to Sam's annoyance. "If you can hack into OSHA's site, they'll be there." With a glare at Scotty, Sam pulled the laptop back toward himself. After about twenty minutes, Sam was able to breach the site and find the floorplans for the facility. Sure enough, the emergency exits were there, clearly marked.

After nearly an hour discussing their plan for searching the facility, Scotty stood and stretched. "Well, boys. I'm gonna hit the hay. I see you decided to leave your sister's virtue to chance. And with a wolf right next door..." he shook his head in mock disdain.

Sam stood quickly, his cheeks tinged red. "That's not funny, man."

Dean stood in front of Sam, placing a hand on his chest. "Alright, alright. Calm down Sammy." He turned. "And you, go to bed." He pointed a finger at Scotty. "And no funny business. I'm dead serious."

Scotty raised his hands in surrender, smirking, as he headed upstairs.

**Please review. I'd love to hear your thoughts on Scotty.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So this chapter is mostly background on how MJ came to be with the boys. I hope you enjoy it. It's not graphic but some mention of abuse/neglect. I still own nothing. Thanks for reading.**

Chapter 3

MJ never consciously thought about those horrible nights. She had forced them from her waking thoughts and into some confined corner of her mind, where they couldn't threaten to overcome her. But at night, when she had no control, when her guard was down, sometimes those horrible encounters flooded her subconscious. She would remember them when she woke, making her feel broken and insignificant. Unclean. She would spend the next twelve hours or so trying to free herself from their hold on her, trying to feel normal again.

The sun shone weakly through the windows of MJ's bedroom the next morning, but she was completely unaware of it. In her mind, she was back in one of the many boarding houses, with her mother passed out next to her. Carl was kneeling next to the bed, stroking her thigh. She was paralyzed with fear. She wanted to tell him to stop, to scream for help, but all she could do was stare at him, wide eyed. Then she could feel his weight on top of her. He was pulling up her nightgown. The pressure, the stabbing pain. She whimpered.

"_Shh. It won't hurt if you relax_."

She heard screaming, but didn't know where it was coming from. She knew she was dreaming now. She needed to wake up. It hurt so much.

Dean burst into the room, pistol in hand, to see MJ thrashing on the bed, screaming in agony. When he saw she was alone and clearly dreaming, he placed the gun in his waistband at the small of his back and knelt on the bed next to her. He grabbed her wrists to try to stop her flailing. Sam appeared in the doorway, pulling on a t-shirt.

"MJ, wake up! Come on kid, it's just a dream." Dean soothed, pulling her into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around her. Sam hovered over them looking worried.

Finally MJ opened her eyes and looked up at Dean. She stopped screaming abruptly. Tears were rolling down her cheeks, her face red and blotchy. "That-a-girl. It was just a dream." Dean said stroking her hair. "You're safe." Dean shifted on the bed so she was sitting across his lap. She burrowed her face into his shirt, her arms trapped between their bodies as Dean held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her. "Just try and relax."

She stiffened. "_It won't hurt if you relax_." She immediately extracated herself from his arms and stood, the familiar feeling of shame and dread settling into the pit of her stomach.

"I'm gonna take a shower." She turned and headed toward the bathroom.

"Whoa, whoa." Dean caught her arm and held her. "Talk to me. What just happened?"

"Dean, please. I can't." She tried to pull away.

"Mary Jane. We need to talk about this."

His use of her full name gave her pause, but she just...couldn't. "No."

"Mar-"

She had to get out of the room, away from them now.

"No! Let go of me, Dean!"

Dean hesitated, but released his hold on her, backing away. She immediately retreated into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind her.

"What the hell was that all about?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged, sitting on the edge of her bed. He recalled a similar incident about three months ago. MJ had woken up, screaming. She wouldn't talk to him about it then, either.

Dean felt way out of his league with this. When he went to pick her up six months ago, he was blown away to hear from the child protective caseworker what had been going on, how she had been living. He now knew her life hadn't been an easy one, that she had seen some things that a girl her age should never have to even know existed. So he couldn't even begin to imagine what these dreams were about. On top of it all, he knew she was confused about her mother. She could still be out there, somewhere, and MJ felt a certain loyalty to her. Dean on the other hand held the woman in the same regard as one of the disgusting monsters they hunted and gutted everyday.

Scotty came into the room and leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. He jerked his head toward the closed bathroom door. "She okay?"

"She'll be fine." Dean said, as he stood, walking out of the room.

* * *

><p>Dean went to do what he always did when he was frustrated. There was nothing quite as calming as leaning under the hood of his Impala, just checking everything out, doing some routine maintenance. While he checked all the fluids, he thought back to the day he got the phone call from CPS.<p>

***Flashback***

Dean was eating a cheeseburger and consulting his map while attempting to keep the car on the road somewhere outside of New Orleans. Dad had left for Jericho two weeks ago. Dean had heard nothing from him since. He had waited around in New Orleans after finishing up with the Hoodoo thing, but he was getting antsy and couldn't sit around there anymore. The plan was to head to Jericho and find his father. Hopefully he would call while Dean was en route to California.

Dean was contemplating pulling over for the night when his cell phone rang. He gave up on folding the map, quickly tossed it over the back seat and grabbed his phone from his coat pocket, sure it was his father.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is this Dean Winshester?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yeah."

"This is Jenna Cullen with Cook County Child Protective Services. I need to speak with you in regards to Wendy and MaryJane Hanson."

Dean's heart sped up. "My sister and her mother?"

"Yes, I'm here with MJ now, at her mother's...home. Ms. Hanson is missing and has been for several months. We were alerted today and found your sister living on her own."

"Is she okay?"

"She's unharmed, however we can't allow her to continue to live alone, and we have been unable to get in contact with her father."

"Wait, when you say missing...was she kidnapped or something?"

"She went out one night and didn't come back. I really don't have all the details on that since it's a police investigation, but Mr. Winchester, if we can't locate a relative willing to take responsibilty for your sister, we'll have no choice but to place her in foster care."

Dean's stomach was in knots, his mind racing. Several months? Had he even talked to her in the past few months? He rarely initiated contact, she would usually call him and Dad to check in. Why hadn't she called them right away when her mother didn't come home?

"Mr. Winchester, are you there?"

"She's there with you now?"

"Yes, she's right here."

Dean took a deep breath. "Let me talk to her."

There was a pause as the phone was passed off.

"Hello?" she sounded like she was crying. Her voice was small and scared.

"MJ, are you alright?" He asked, swallowing back tears.

"Dean, where's Dad?" She asked, sounding panicked.

"I don't know. He's working a job, I-" He paused, at a total loss. "I haven't been able to reach him, either."

She choked back a sob, taking a shaky breath. "I don't want to live with strangers." She managed before being overtaken by the tears.

"MJ, listen to me. I'm coming to get you. Do you hear me? I will be there first thing in the morning, okay? And we'll figure this out. You're not going to live in some foster home. Got it?" She didn't respond. "Answer me, MJ."

"OK."

"Let me talk to the worker again."

Dean could hear the woman trying to console MJ before coming on the line.

"I'll be there in twelve hours." He shook his head. "I can't-" his voice broke. He took a deep breath. "She must be so scared."

"Mr. Winchester," she paused, "Dean. I promise you she will be fine for the night. You have my word."

"Thanks,-"

"Jenna." she offered.

"Jenna. You call me if she needs me."

"You got it."

* * *

><p>Dean arrived in Chicago at 8 AM. He was running on no sleep and four cups of coffee. Jenna had called him and told him not to meet her at the office. She gave him an address and said she'd be there at 8:30.<p>

Dean pulled up in front of a row of dilapidated houses. The lawns were strewn with trash and junk cars. In front of the house on the corner, 86, the one Dean was looking for, stood two scantily clad, hardened looking women. "If they're not hookers, then Sam's the good looking brother," he said to himself. "Where the hell did she send me?" he wondered as he watched two men complete a drug deal not twenty feet in front of him.

A black Nissan Pathfinder pulled to the curb in front of him, a woman in her mid twenties getting out. She wore heels, a black skirt suit and her hair in a ponytail. A government badge swung from her necklace as she made her way to the passenger side of the vehicle. She leaned into the back seat, rummaging around. Knowing this was Jenna, Dean got out of the car and approached her. The drug dealer hadn't moved since completing his last transaction. He was now staring at the caseworker's behind.

"That's right, baby. Go in deep." he called to her.

"Hey, watch it, pal!" Dean called, placing himself between the man and woman, facing the man.

"I ain't your fuckin' pal, _pal_." The man took a step toward Dean.

Jenna emerged from the vehicle and stepped between Dean and the drug dealer.

"Alright, that's enough. I'll call the cops, Franky, you know I will. Just leave it alone."

Franky stared at Dean for a few more moments, then retreated back to his spot on the sidewalk.

Jenna turned to Dean with a smile. She held numerous manilla folders and a digital camera. "I'm Jenna Cullen, we spoke on the phone."

"Dean Winchester, but somehow you already knew that."

They crossed the street, Jenna leading the way. She gestured toward the Impala. "Your sister told me all about your amazing car." She grinned.

"Where is she?"

"I just dropped her off at school. She wanted to go and I didn't see the harm in it." She said heading up the steps and into the entryway of the house. "When we're finished here we'll go pick her up." She added climbing the stairs. Dean noticed numbers on the doors of the rooms. As they reached the second floor, a smell of urine and filth met Dean's nose. "Where are we exactly? Is this a boarding house?"

She stopped on the landing, turning to look at Dean. "I wanted to show you something." She turned and opened the door to her right. She stepped in and motioned for Dean to enter. The room was about 8' by 8', with two mattresses crammed side by side on the floor. There were bins with clothes in them, a dresser, the top of which was serving as a counter top/medicine cabinet, and a hot plate in the corner. The one, small, grimey window was propped open by a piece of two by four, but even at 8:30 in the morning, the room was warm and stuffy, and smelled of cigarette smoke. Despite the tight quarters, whoever lived here clearly tried to keep it clean. The beds were made, the clothes folded and there were even some fresh flowers on the dresser top.

Jenna gave him a few minutes to take it all in before speaking.

"This is where your sister was living." She said as Dean was inspecting the sundry items on the dresser top.

He jerked around, and stared at her, trying to process what she had just said. He turned and took in the room again.

"No, no." He shook his head. "They had an apartment , in a decent building, near the river-"

"They did, until her mother OD'd there and they got evicted last fall. They moved around after that, and landed here four months ago. Wendy's been gone for three."

"OD'd?"

Jenna nodded. "On crack. Nearly died."

"I swear I had no idea. She never said anything." He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. "My father, he doesn't know or he never would have left her with that woman."

Jenna took a step closer to Dean. "I brought you here, so you could see for yourself just how serious this situation is. Dean, even if Wendy walked through that door right now, she can't care for MJ. Wherever MJ goes today, it's probably going to be a long term placement."

"I can take her until I find-I mean until my father is available."

"Look, Dean, I don't know you or your father, but we're talking about a fourteen year old girl here. A fourteen year old girl who's porbably been through hell. I need to know that you understand what you're signing on for and that you're committed to doing this. This could be until she turns eighteen. Are you willing and able to be responsible for a teenage girl for the next three and a half years?"

Dean looked her in the eye. "She is my sister. As long as she needs me, she has me." Dean turned away, tears in his eyes. "I just wish she had called me sooner. I can't believe she lived like this..." Dean cleared his throat, turning back to the woman. "I want to see her. Can we go get her?"

Jenna and Dean left the house and went to her car. Jenna offered to complete the interview and necessary paperwork in her car to avoid a trip to her office. Franky was nowhere to be seen as they crossed the street.

"How'd you know that idiot's name earlier?" Dean asked opening her door for her.

"He's your run of the mill baby daddy. I actually placed one of his kids last week. The mom was strung out on heroine. " Dean circled around getting in the passenger seat. It took about half an hour to complete everything.

"Okay, so you don't know where her father is or when you'll be able to contact him. You have no stable home, no real source of income, and, my favorite part, you have a criminal record." She looked up at him like she wanted him to refute this recap. When he didn't she continued. "Here's the deal Dean," Jenna said closing up her folder and clicking her pen. "MJ goes with you for now, but we'll need to check in. Frequently. I don't think MJ would benefit from reuniting with her mother, even if she does surface, but that's not really my call. I have to convince a Judge that you are the appropriate caretaker. So please, do what you can to make my job easy." She grinned at him.

Dean waited outside the school while Jenna went in to get MJ. Dean had loaded her meager belongings into the trunk, thinking that he would need to take her shopping pretty soon. Jenna had given him a lot to think about: school, doctors, a supervision plan, counseling...he'd work out the details later, right now he needed to see her for himself, make sure she was really okay. Everything else they'd figure out as they went.

Dean's heart hammered in his chest as he saw Jenna coming down the steps, followed by a girl he barely recognized as his sister. She looked thinner than last time he'd seen her (which he had figured out on the drive up was about 8 months ago). And paler. The thing that struck him the most was how grown up she looked. Her face had lost it's childish chubbiness and she was wearing make up. This simple fact blew Dean away. When had she stopped being a little kid?

MJ ran a hand through her hair as she and Jenna drew nearer. Dean smiled. She looked so much like their father when she did that.

Dean walked toward them when they descended the front steps. Jenna fell back as MJ approached Dean.

"Hey, kid, what's new?" he asked with a smirk.

Her face immediately crumpled at his words and she ducked her head, breaking down in sobs. Dean closed the distance between them, pulling her into his arms. He held her tightly, the relief sweeping through him at finally seeing her not enough to keep the new panic at bay. He didn't do well with emotions, and crying teenage girls were not something he was accustomed to. He looked up at Jenna, anxiety plain on his face. She just smiled warmly and nodded, letting him know that this is all MJ needed right now.

Dean drew a deep breath before pulling back and examining MJ closely. "Are you okay?"

She just nodded, still crying freely. When she had quieted, Dean opened the passenger side door for her. She got in and Dean closed the door behind her and turned to Jenna.

"Thanks, ya know, for giving me a chance. I won't let ya down."

"Hey, as long as you don't let _her_ down, I'm happy." Jenna approached MJ's open window. Dean was impressed when she squatted down to talk to MJ. The woman was in a skirt, after all. "This is my cell number. You can call or text me anytime. I'm gonna see you in three months. Right Dean?" she asked glancing at Dean who was now behind the wheel.

"Yes, ma'am."

Jenna stood, smiling down at them. "Happy trails."

Dean pulled away, thinking he felt more capable of killing the devil himself than he did of pulling this off.

***Present***

Dean was deep in thought when Sam appraoched him, handing him a beer. Dean accepted it, turning and leaning back against the fender.

"Thanks."

Sam nodded. "You've been out here for hours. Everything okay?"

Dean took a drink before answering. "No, everything is not okay. Is that what you want me to say, Sammy? Everything is complete shit! Is that what you came out here to hear?"

"If that's what you're really thinking, then yeah, that's what I want to hear. You have to talk to me, Dean. We're in this together."

Dean shook his head, walking to his tool bench and searching for a socket wrench. "See that's where you're wrong, Sammy. No one's in this with me. I took responsibility for her. I'm the one who took this on, and I'm the one who's screwing it up."

"How are you screwing it up?"

"She wakes up screaming, won't tell me what's wrong. I have no clue what happened to her all those years that woman who called herself a mother was supposed to be taking care of her." Dean was slamming tools around. "I should have forced her to keep seeing that counselor. I never should have let her quit." Dean tossed a screw driver down and kicked the bench, tools spilling onto the ground. He then sat down on an overturned cement bucket, running a hand through his hair. "I don't have a fuckin' clue what I'm doing."

There was silence for a few moments. Sam grabbed Dean's abandoned beer, handed it to Dean and then took the makeshift seat beside him.

"For what it's worth I think you're doing a hell of a job." Sam said. "She's a good kid, Dean."

"I know she is."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. This isn't easy, but she's got everything she needs, and- for the most part she's happy. It's gonna take time. She'll talk when she's ready." Sam said, a note of finality in his voice.

Dean smirked. "If you say so, college boy. You take adolescent psych at Stanford?"

"Shut up, Dean." Sam stood, heading inside.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam stopped and looked back.

"Thanks."

Sam just smiled and headed toward the house.

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read, reviewed and added the story to favorites. This chapter is a little shorter and a little heavy on the angst, but after this chapter it'll be more about the hunt. Please enjoy! I still don't own Supernatural, or any characters, except MJ and Scotty.**

Chapter 4

That evening MJ was curled up on the couch, with a book and a blanket. She was wearing Sam's Stanford sweatshirt that was ridiculously big on her. She had her ipod in and jumped a foot in the air when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

She turned, yanking the ear buds out.

"Sorry." Dean said. "Where's Sam?"

"He went for a run, should be back any minute."

"I'm gonna run down to Wal-Mart. Grab some stuff so I can change the oil tomorrow." he said heading toward the front door.

"Mm-hmm. And if you happen upon a bar..." She said with a grin.

"Hey what do you take me for?" He asked with mock resentment.

MJ replaced her ear buds, focusing back on her book. She hoped Sam was on his way back. It was nearly dark out now.

She saw movement to her left and looked up to see Scotty entering the room. She pulled out the ear buds again.

"Hey. Mind if I join you?" He asked. He didn't wait for a repsonse before he got comfortable on the middle cushion, right next to MJ. She shifted to her right, away from him. His dark gray t-shirt looked even tighter without the usual flannel over it. He draped his arms over the back of the couch, and propped his feet up on the coffe table.

"Make yourself comfortable." She said looking at him.

He just smirked back. She returned to her book, but gave up on the ipod.

"Where are your brothers?"

"Dean ran to the store. Sammy should be on his way back from his run."

He nodded in response.

She read for a few minutes, really uncomfortable with him sitting in silence, right next to her. She wished he would turn on the TV or something. He would look over at her periodically.

"So where'd you grow up?" He asked suddenly, turning toward her.

"Chicago."

"Until when?"

"Until 6 months ago when I came on the road with my brothers." She hoped he wouldn't ask any more questions. She didn't like getting into it under the best of circumstances, let alone with this morning's dream still fresh in her mind.

"Did you have a boyfriend back home?"

She hesitated, taken aback. "No."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really? They must've been lining up to date you. You turned 'em all down, huh?"

"Oh yeah, that was me. Breaking hearts in between cheerleading practice and pep squad." She said, her eyes on her book.

"Please. Don't pretend not to know that you're hot."

She felt her face burning crimson, the uneasy feeling in her stomach expanding. What the hell was he getting at? She made no response, her eyes were on her book, but she wasn't even seeing the words.

"So, I heard you moaning last night." He said out of nowhere. She looked over at him. "It turned me on."

"I was having a nightmare, you creeper."

"Sure." He smirked knowingly. "Just thinking about it has got me all hot, eh."

MJ followed his gaze down to his lap. Her stomach turned at the sight of his erection tenting his jeans. She froze, unable to so much as look away.

He reached under her blanket, his hand curving over her thigh, moving toward her groin. His touch brought her back to reality and she pulled the blanket back and jumped off the couch. She stepped quickly around him and stood facing him, her arms crossed.

"You pig." She said, outraged before storming toward the stairs. Her exit was blocked by Sam, standing in the doorway, his shirt damp with sweat.

"What's going on?" He asked looking from MJ to the back of Scotty's head, then back to MJ, studying her face carefully. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm going to bed." She said pushing past him.

Sam walked into the living room and stood in front of Scotty, who had picked up MJ's book, seemingly intrigued by it.

"What the hell did you do?" Sam asked towering over Scotty.

Scotty shrugged. "Nothing."

"Why'd she call you a pig?" Sam was having a hard time controlling his temper.

"Don't know, but I'm not sweating it. I've been called worse, eh."

That's when Sam noticed the obvious bulge in Scotty's jeans. He took deliberate, slow breaths, trying to calm himself down.

"What did you do, huh? She's fucking fifteen you dirtbag." Sam said, his voice deadly quiet.

"I don't know what you're talking about. We were just talking."

"You're so lucky that it was me that came home. You wouldn't even be breathing right now if Dean had walked in on this." Sam paused, Scotty just looking up at him, completely bemused. "You so much as look at her again and I'll tear you to shreds."

Sam forced himself to leave the room before he could change his mind and pummel the guy.

* * *

><p>MJ was pacing her bedroom trying to calm down. In a way she felt vindicated. She<em> knew <em>this guy was no good. Her instincts had been dead on. But being right about him in no way diminished the feelings of disgust and anger he had roused. She took deep, calming breaths. She had to get past this. Dean and Sam needed this guy's help on the case. If she made a big deal out of this, Dean would flip and Scotty would be out on his ass, heading back to Canada. If he was lucky. Either way he wouldn't be going to Tupper Lake with them and that would leave Sam and Dean without any back up. They had based their plans on having three men, and she couldn't have them going into Mount Hope shorthanded. No. She'd suck it up and forget it ever happened.

There was a knock on her door and she panicked.

"MJ? Can I come in?" She breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of Sam's voice.

She pulled the door open. "Sure."

Sam looked royally pissed as he entered the room.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He stood over her, reminding her remarkably of Dean.

She sat down on the bed. "I'm fine, Sam. Nothing happened."

"Then why did you call him a pig and why did he have an-" Sam stopped abruptly.

She snickered. "Don't ask me to explain spontaneous erections, Sam. Not really my department."

"Don't try to gloss over this, Mary Jane. Something happened and I want to know what."

"Look, Sammy. We were sitting on the couch, talking. He got - happy suddenly. I noticed and got grossed out. Hence, the pig comment. That's when you came in. That's it."

He sat beside her on the bed.

"Did he touch you?" He asked quietly.

"No." She lied quickly. "It was nothing, so could we please not even bring it up to Dean? It'll just cause more unnecessary drama."

Sam didn't seem entirely convinced, but he caved nonetheless.

"Okay, but you gotta promise you'll tell me if he tries anything. Anything at all."

She nodded, relieved. "Deal."

Sam insisted on sleeping on the floor in her room that night. He told Dean that he just wanted to be nearby in case she had another nightmare. If Dean was suspicious, he didn't show it.

Sam lay awake, his aggrevation growing by the minute. He didn't like what he had agreed to, and if Dean found out, he would be in a world of shit. Even if it happened exactly the way MJ claimed it did, it was still far from okay. McWhorter was Dean's age and shouldn't have been aroused by sitting on the couch with a fifteen year old kid. Besides, Sam knew that MJ hadn't told him everything. If he found out that son of a bitch layed a hand on his sister...

Sam heard MJ whimpering softly. He made his way to her bedside.

"MJ?" He whispered, brushing the hair from her face. She continued to whimper and he saw tears rolling down her face. "Sweetheart, wake up." He placed a hand on her cheek, gently tapping her.

She tried to push him away, her arms flailing. "No. Please, not again. Please, it hurts." She begged. Sam pulled her into a sitting position.

"Mary Jane. Wake up."

She gasped as her eyes flew open. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, it's me. You were dreaming."

She looked at him for a moment before letting out a strangled sob. She threw her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

Sam rubbed her back trying to soothe her. "Shh. It's okay. You're safe." He pulled away, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." She answered quickly.

"Okay. It's okay, you don't have to. Here, lay down." He fixed the covers back over her and started to get up when MJ grabbed his arm.

"Stay." She said simply. He lay down beside her as she turned on her side, facing away from him. He wrapped his arm around her waist and she grasped his hand. Sam listened to her breathing slow and become shallow and rythmic as she fell asleep. He felt sick to his stomach wondering what she had drempt about, now certain that someone, somewhere, had done something horrible to her. A single tear rolled down Sam's cheek as he watched his sister sleep.

* * *

><p>Bobby returned sometime before dawn, and Dean announced at breakfast that they would be leaving early the next morning. Dean caught Sam throwing some dirty looks at McWhorter when he came into the room. He also noticed how MJ seemed to avoid looking directly at the guy while she cooked their breakfast. Was he reading more into it than what it was? Sammy had told him she had another nightmare last night. Not as bad as the night before, but bad enough. Maybe she was just off because of that. He might have been able to brush it off, but there was no mistaking the way she stiffened when he sat beside her at the table and reached across her for the butter dish. She became flushed and rushed to finish her eggs, excusing herself quickly, saying she needed to do laundry and pack.<p>

Dean made his way upstairs a half hour later, leaving Sammy and McWhorter to clean the kitchen. He heard CCR playing through the partially open bedroom door. MJ was standing in front of the bed, folding clothes. Dean knocked on the door jamb before entering.

"Hey." He said approaching her. She looked up, giving him half a smile. He sat down next to her suitcase. "How you doing?"

"Fine." She said without looking up from the sweatshirt she was adding to the stack of neatly folded clothes.

"You sure? Cause I know the nightmares really-"

"I'm okay Dean." she cut him off.

Dean didn't respond as MJ made her way to the dresser, pulling her toiletries and make up off the top and placing them in a make up case. He took a deep breath as she returned.

"We need to talk about Scotty."

The make up case tumbled from MJ's grasp, it's contents spilling onto the floor. "What about him?" She asked bending down to retrieve the items.

Dean knelt in front of her, gathering up several bottles of nail polish. He noticed that her face had gone red at the mention of Scotty. "Are you- okay with him coming along with us?" He asked as they both straightened and he resumed his spot on the bed.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, you seem kinda uncomfortable when he's around." Dean watched her carefully, gauging her response.

She kept packing, not looking at him as she answered. "I think he's a creep who thinks he's God's gift, but I wouldn't say he makes me uncomfortable."

Something was off, Dean thought.

He grabbed her arm, making her look up at him. "Stop. Sit. Listen." He said slowly, inclining his head toward the bed. She sat down beside him as he released her arm.

"I know we joke around a lot and that we don't have serious talks, like, ever." He cleared his throat and continued. "But you know that if something is bothering you, anything, you can tell me and I'll take care of it." She looked down, picking at her thumb nail. He continued. "If this guy has done anything. Anything at all that upset you, I need to know about it. Now." He waited, watching her. "Even if it was just looking at you the wrong way, anything." She still said nothing, not looking up. "I'll tell him to take a hike and Bobby can come along."

MJ looked up at him finally. "No. He hasn't done anything, Dean. It's just..me. I'm not used to having someone else around all the time. Especially a strange man. It's fine, though. I promise."

Dean still wasn't convinced. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." She said with a small smile. "It's just the nightmares. They make me feel...off." She finished, standing and continuing to pack.

Dean sat in silence for a few moments.

"Well, okay," he said standing. "I'll leave you to it then." He stopped at the door and turned to face her. "MJ." She looked up. "You know you're safe with me, right?" He didn't quite meet her eye as he said it, his face reddening slightly. In his conversations with Jenna over the last few months she had encouraged him to make MJ feel comfortable talking to him. He might be able to accomplish that, but he doubted he would ever feel anything but awkward having a heart to heart with her.

MJ smiled, knowing what it cost him to pose that question. "I know, Dean."

**Reviews are truly appreciated!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hope you enjoy this. Thanks for reading. Please review! Oh and of course, I do not own Supernatural.**

They left Bobby's the next morning at 5 AM. Scotty drove into the salvage yard while they were packing the car.

"How's he going to drive all day after being out all night?" Sam asked no one in particular as Scotty pulled the bike to a stop next to the Impala and cut the engine.

MJ gave Bobby a hug goodbye before getting into the backseat.

"Let's do this." Scotty called to them pulling sunglasses from his pocket.

Dean closed the trunk. "I'm planning on getting twelve hours of driving in today. You sure you're up for that on no sleep?"

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. "I slept. I just didn't sleep here."

MJ rolled her eyes. Day was just breaking when they started out. Scotty followed as they made their way toward New York. He had wanted to go through Canada, which would save them about an hour of drive time, but Dean had shot that down, saying they didn't need to be crossing the border. Too much risk of having the trunk searched. They could explain away the salt and holy water, but the blades, guns and ammo probably wouldn't sit well with Border Patrol.

After two quick pit stops along the way, they finally stopped for the night in Toledo. MJ stretched her sore limbs glad to be out of the car after a twelve hour drive. They found a diner just off the highway and grabbed a booth. Dean had invited Scotty to join them, but he declined, heading to the bar across the road.

As soon as they were seated, Sam pulled out his laptop while Dean scanned the restaurant, simultaneously searching his surroundings for possible threats and attractive women. MJ looked around thinking that in this particular dive, he might find both of those things in one package. She glanced at the menu and tossed it down, noticing Dean gawking at a woman seated at a booth across the room. She was snapping her gum between her ridiculously red lips and twirling her fake blond locks around her finger. Her gold, spandex shirt was working overtime and barely containing her boobs, which she had proudly on display. She winked at Dean, before turning back to her friend and barking out an obnoxious laugh. MJ turned back to Dean who was still smirking stupidly at the girl.

"Really, Dean, that one?"

"Huh?" he asked not looking away from the girl.

MJ balled up her straw wrapper and pegged it at him, hitting him square in the forehead.

He glared at her. "What?"

"She is appalling. She's been road hard and put away wet."

Sam laughed, not looking up from his research.

"She's hot." Dean said simply.

"She is _for sure _diseased. That shirt is like a disclaimer for Syphyllis."

Dean shook his head. "How'd you get so bitchy?" He asked taking a drink of his coffee.

"I am not a bitch. I'm a realist. And the reailty is that if you sleep with that girl you will contract something itchy and unpleasant."

Dean choked on his coffee, giving MJ the most disapproving look he could manage while sputtering and spraying coffe down his front.

MJ giggled at the sight.

"Guys, there was another one." Sam said, the smile now gone from his face.

"Another death?" MJ asked.

Sam nodded. "Alderman Spencer Hewitt, 44, was visiting the facility when he collapsed. Cause of death undetermined, witnesses said he was clutching at his throat as if he couldn't breathe."

"What the hell? This guy wasn't even an employee." Dean said quietly.

"It looks like they tried to keep it quiet. This story is from today, but he died last week."

Dean shook his head. "It's gotta be random."

"Maybe random, but definitely our kind of thing. One of the employees spoke to the media. Listen to this: 'It suddenly got really cold in the hallway and there was this weird scratching noise. Then he just fell to his knees.'"

"So a spirit. But why these people? And why so much time in between? If it was random, it seems like it would be killing a whole lot more often. There's practically an unlimited supply of victims in there."

Sam closed his laptop as the waitress approached to take their order. Once she walked away Sam turned to his siblings. "I don't know what's going on, but we gotta get there fast before it kills again."

"Well, we can't do much until after dark anyway, so we might as well stay for the night, drive all day tomorrow and check it out tomorrow night." Dean said.

After they ate and checked into the crummy motel next door, Dean joined Scotty at the bar and Sam got to work on his laptop again. MJ decided to go for a run to stretch her legs after the long car ride.

"Be back before dark." Sam called after her.

She hadn't thought she'd be gone nearly long enough to worry about running out of daylight, but it was nearly dusk when she rounded the corner, the motel coming into view. She slowed to a walk as she approached the bar. She was getting ready to cross the street, when a hand on her shoulder made her jump. She yanked out her ear buds, turning quickly.

"Hey." Scotty said, taking a drag on his cigarette. There were a few other people standing outside smoking. "So are you mad at me or something? You've been ignoring me."

MJ didn't respond, just glared at him, wondering if this was just part of his game, or if he was really that oblivious that he couldn't figure out why she was keeping her distance.

"We're okay, right?" he asked with a wink.

MJ took a step closer to him. "No. We're not okay. We're not anything. I am tolerating you because we need you for this job. Once it's done, I don't intend to ever lay eyes on you ever again. So just stay away and keep your hands to yourself, or I promise you I will spill everything to Dean."

He smirked. "And?"

"And you'll be crying like a little girl before he's done with you."

Scotty scoffed, taking another drag on his cigarette. "Dean loves me."

"If you want to test that theory be my guest. It's your face." She turned and crossed the street, his soft laughter drifting after her.

She was shocked that she had actually confronted him. _It must be post run endorphines_, she thought. She was glad she had said her peace. The hard part, she knew, would be making good on her threat and actually telling Dean. When push came to shove, she knew she might not push back.

* * *

><p>MJ took an instant liking to the tiny village of Tupper Lake. She imagined it was a bear to live here in the winter time, but in May it was absolutely beautiful. The lake itself was really no more than a large pond, but lovely nonetheless. Their motel was actually a bunch of little cabins set on the lakeshore, just off the main road where Mount Hope was located. MJ was sitting in one of the two Adirondack chairs on their small porch overlooking the water. She had Sam's old digital camera at the ready, waiting for the loons to circle back around. She knew she wouldn't get very good pictures with the old camera, but she was going to try. She had never seen any birds like them.<p>

Sam and Dean were inside, getting their supplies ready. It was nearly dusk and they were planning to break into Mount Hope tonight to have a look around. She, of course, had nothing to prepare for because she would be staying behind. She was still less than happy about this, but she didn't bother arguing with Dean. She knew he wasn't going to change his mind. Suddenly she heard the loon call close by. She got the camera ready, aiming it toward the water. There they were, their strong wings propeling them toward her. She adjusted the focus, but before she could take the shot, someone stepped in front of her.

"Hey, what's up?" Scotty asked.

She jumped, her heart in her throat. She hadn't heard him approach, focused as she was on the loons' music.

"Uh, well I was taking a picture, but then some idiot stepped into my shot." She said aggrevated.

He hopped over the porch railing landing beside her. He was wearing dark clothes and a knit hat, and his usual flannel, except in black ."Hey, I'm sorry. Didn't mean to piss you off." He leaned on the railing, smirking down at her. She ignored him as best she could, searching the sky for the loons. She saw him lean to his left, peeking inside the cabin. Apparently satisfied that Dean and Sam were occupied, he bent toward her, his face inches from hers.

"You know I got a hot tub in my cabin. Just about big enough for two. I also got a bottle of Jagermeister and some Red Bull. What do you say you sneak over later tonight. After we get back. Good times, eh."

She did her best to ignore him, her stomach turning and face burning at his words.

She heard the door creak open and Scotty quickly moved away from her, crossing his arms over his chest. Sam stepped out onto the porch, dressed in all black, his duffel over his shoulder. He paused when he saw Scotty on the porch. He took in MJ's flushed appearance. He knew her well enough to know that the expression she was wearing was one of pure disgust and a smidge of anxiety. Sam approached the two, standing between them.

"Dean's finishing packing. You can meet us at the car." He said in a tone tht left no room for further discussion.

Scotty hopped back over the railing with a quick jerk of his head toward MJ. She exhaled slowly.

Sam turned to her once he was satisfied Scotty had followed his direction.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Fine."

"Did he-"

"No, Sam." She interrupted. "I'm okay."

Sam turned and started to head to the car, before stopping in his tracks and heading back.

"Look, MJ, I don't believe you. I know he's bothering you. Tell me the truth." He crossed his arms, waiting for her to respond.

She stood, leaning against the railing. She looked up at him. "Come on Sam. We've been through this. It's nothing I can't handle. Let's not make a big deal out of it."

He shook his head. "This has gotten out of hand." He jerked his thumb in Scotty's direction. "If he's being inappropriate, I need to know about it. He can't just get away with doing this to you. And, for the record , I don't like lying to Dean."

"You're not lying to Dean." MJ said, lowering her voice. "You're keeping a huge, unnecessary fight from happening. Think about it. What good would come of Dean knowing about this?"

Sam just looked at her for a moment.

"Besides," she continued, "Once this case is done, we'll go our separate ways and we'll never see him again."

"Fine. But I'm telling you now MJ, I know you lied before about what happened at Bobby's. If he lays another finger on you, you'd better come right to me, or I swear he won't be the only one in trouble."

MJ said nothing. She knew Sam would never lay a hand on her, that's not what he was threatening. But he would tell Dean that she lied to him about Scotty. And that wouldn't be good for anyone.

The boys left shortly after dark. MJ retreated into the cabin, laying the salt lines just as Dean had ordered her to do. She pulled out her laptop to see what she could find out. "The sooner we solve this, the sooner I'll be rid of Creepy McSmirksalot." She mumbled to herself. She had looked into the first two victims, Sara Searles and Eugene Thompson, countless times and found no connection. Both had graduated high school last June, but didn't attend the same school, didn't work the same shift and didn't seem to be friends outside of work. The third victim, Spencer Hewitt, a local alderman, was touring the facility last week when he dropped dead. Cause of death was strangulation, just like the other victims. And just like the other victims, no one was anywhere near him when it happened. Well, not anyone that the staff could see. The alderman was there to make a donation on behalf of the Joshua Morrison Foundation. He had no other affiliation with the facility.

MJ did a search of the foundation and one of the first entries that came up was a photo from the _Adirondack __Daily Enterprise_ from over a year ago. The three victims were pictured, along with three other people.

"Bingo." MJ said scrolling over the photo and reading the caption below it.

_Students from local high schools competed for the Joshua Morrison Memorial Scholarship. The scholarship is awarded to one high school senior pursuing a degree in the Human Services field. Pictured with the student finalists are State Senator Randall Morrison and Patricia Morrison, cofounders of the Joshua Morrison foundation, and Spencer Hewitt, Foundation Chair._

The other finalist, standing next to the senator in the photo, was Nathan Morrison. A few more clicks told MJ that he was the only surviving child of Senator Morrison. Joshua Morrison, the couple's first born, died when he was seven from a degenerative heart condition. He was also severely mentally retarded. Since his death the Senator's wife, Patricia, had worked as an advocate for children with developmental delays and began the foundation in her late son's name.

That was where the trail ended. She could find no connection between the people in the photo and and the facility. Yes, the foundation regularly made donations to Mount Hope, but beyond that there didn't seem to be any reason why these people were the chosen victims. MJ had been considering buying into Dean's theory that the deaths were the work of a restless spirit who was choosing his victims at random, but the photo she'd stumbled upon squashed that idea.

The motel room door burst open, making MJ jump a foot in the air. Sam and Scotty rushed in, awkwardly supporting Dean's weight between them. Dean was barely standing, his face a mask of pain, blood soaking the front of his shirt.

"What happened?" MJ yelled running to the bed as they laid Dean carefully on it.

"Our friend made an appearance. Sliced Dean pretty good." Scotty answered as Sam ran to get the first aid kit.

"MJ." Dean said, grimacing in agony. "Go make sure there's no blood on the upholstery."

"Screw the car, Dean, you're bleeding like crazy!" She shouted wadding up a towel and applying pressure to the wound.

The gash in Dean's abdomen looked pretty gruesome at first glance, but it turned out not to be all that deep. Sam was able to close it with five stitches and no less than a dozen violent curses from Dean.

"There. I think you're good." Sam said half an hour later as he inspected his work.

Dean carefully sat up, examining the laceration. "Man, I wanna gank this thing bad. We need to figure this out and fast."

"Were you guys able to search the place at all before you were attacked?" MJ asked cleaning up the supplies and trash.

"That's the really disturbing part. We were done. We were in the parking lot when he showed himself." Sam said.

"It's not confined to the institution. Fun times for us." Scotty said from the kitchenette as he helped himself to a beer.

MJ growled in frustration. Not only was this thing still out there wreaking havoc, slicing up her brother, but now it could apparently roam freely. Which meant it would be harder to nail down. Which meant this would take longer. Which meant more Scotty. "Did you find anything inside to help us figure out who this guy is?" She asked desperately.

Sam retrieved his jacket from the floor where he had discarded it in his haste to tend to Dean. He pulled a folded up piece of paper from the pocket. We went through the personal belongings of those three patients who died the week before the killings started. We found this picture."

MJ took the piece of paper from Sam and gasped when she unfolded it. The three victims smiled up at her from the same photo she had found online earlier.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews. They're very much appreciated. This chapter is a little shorter than the others, but it seemed like a good place to leave it. Hope you enjoy!**

**I do not own Supernatural.**

Now convinced that this photo was somehow at the center of what was happening, MJ and Sam worked feverishly to piece it all together. Both had their laptops out. Sam was sitting at the desk and MJ on the floor, both surrounded by the files they had compiled at Bobby's. Dean sat on the bed, against the headboard, one hand resting against his stomach. Scotty was still perched on the small counter in the kitchenette, working on his third beer. He also had his computer open. As engrossed as she was in her research, MJ noticed Scotty's eyes were on her more than they weren't. She tried her best to ignore him.

"I'm not finding any connection between Sean Burke and the senator." Sam said. They had found the photo in Sean's meager personal belongings. Sam had recognized the victims and knew Sean was connected to the deaths. He pulled up a photo of Sean from Mount Hope's patient database. It was definitely the guy that attacked them in the parking lot.

"There's no obit, no death records, nothing for this Sean Burke. It's like he never existed." Scotty said. He looked up at Dean. "We can't burn what we can't find."

Dean picked up the copy of the photo. "We need to assume one of these other people is the next victim. And," he gestured toward his mid-section, "since it's now glaringly obvious the spirit is not confined to the facility, we gotta shag ass. These people are in danger. I say we warn them now and figure out the connection later."

"Senator Morrison has a home in Lake Placid. The wife and son live there pretty much full time." MJ read. "Whether the senator's there or in Albany is anybody's guess."

"Lake Placid is about 30 minutes east of here." Scotty said, hopping up and draining his beer.

"Let's get a move on." Dean said as he started to stand, wincing as he moved.

MJ stood, grabbing up the scattered files. "Nice try, Dean. You're not going anywhere."

Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed. "I'm not sitting here with my thumb up my ass."

"Seriously, Dean. You're not coming along so I can restitch that in the middle of fighting an angry spirit."

Scotty walked over and cuffed Dean on the shoulder. "Just lie back and relax. Sammy and I got this."

Dean grumbled something about being treated like a kid, but swung his legs back onto the bed and lied back.

Sam put his hand out to MJ who was holding all the files in a neat stack. "Thanks," he said taking them.

"Hang on. You don't think I'm staying behind, too, do you?" MJ asked.

"MJ, we've been over this-"

Dean's argument was cut off by what could best be described as a snarl from MJ.

"No!" she shouted, actually stomping her foot. "Just, no! You need help and Dean can't go, so you're taking me! What if they're not all in the same place and you need to split up? How are you going to keep all of them safe? What if we actually catch a break and the body is buried somewhere nearby? How are you going to burn the bones and babysit the Morrisons? I can _not _sit here and wonder how it's going for the next God knows how many hours! I won't. So just get over it, because you'll have to drag me, kicking and screaming from the Impala to get me to stay behind." With that she made her way quickly across the room and left, slamming the door behind her.

Sam looked to Dean, knowing they didn't have time to argue, but not willing to be the one to give the final okay.

Dean looked from the door to Sam, clearly frustrated. "Just don't let her out of your sight."

* * *

><p>"Okay, so Sean Burke was admitted to Mount Hope seventeen years ago when he was seven-years-old." Sam was speeding down the highway, Scotty riding shotgun. MJ was in the back, the files they had compiled while at Bobby's about the recently deceased patients spread across the seat. She had a flashlight poised in front of her, scouring the documents. "He was born in Philedelphia. His diagnosis was severe mental retardation when he was admitted. Strange, though, the staff commented on his being relatively high functioning. He wasn't violent. He didn't require much care." She shook her head. "Over and over again the doctors and nurses made note of how capable he was. Weird."<p>

"Yeah, we read his file at Bobby's. So how did he die again?" Scotty asked from the front seat.

MJ flipped through the records. "Oh." She said softly. "He was pushed down a flight of stairs by another patient. He broke his hip and had to have surgery. He went into cardiac arrest while he was under."

"Well, whatever is motivating him, he seemed really..._focused _when he attacked Dean." Sam said, hitting the accelerator a little harder.

"Why were you guys able to see him? The witnesses of the other attacks didn't see anyone or anything near the victims."

"I don't know." Sam said distractedly. "Maybe he's getting stronger. Maybe that's why he can leave now." His focus was clearly on getting them to Lake Placid as quickly as possible.

"He had a knife?" MJ asked.

Scotty turned to her, the smirk firmly in place. "He stole it off Dean. Your brother never saw it coming until it was too late. He was good and pissed, eh."

"Do you find this funny? He could've been killed." MJ shot back, glaring at him.

Scotty put his hands up in surrender, before turning back around in his seat. MJ didn't miss that his grin widened at her outburst.

* * *

><p>"Can I help you?" The middle aged woman peaked around the partially opened front door, a polite smile plastered on her clearly annoyed, suspicious face. She swept a strand of her dark blonde hair away from her face as she took in the three of them, standing side by side on her porch.<p>

"Patricia Morrison?" MJ asked.

"Yes."

"Mrs. Morrison, I'm Sam Bennett. This is Scott Thompson and Mary Palmer. We-"

"We need to know how you know Sean Burke and why he wants to kill you." Scotty interrupted Sam, staring Patricia straight in the eye. His usual smirk had been replaced by a cold, stony stare.

Patricia's smile disappeared and the color drained from her face. She stood silent and wide eyed for a moment, clutching the doorframe.

"What are you talking about? Who are you people?" Red blotches appeared on her cheekbones.

"Listen, Mrs. Morrison, I'm sure you're aware of the deaths at Mount Hope Institute. We're private investigators who were hired to look into them. We think you and your family might be in danger." Patricia considered him for a few moments, apparently torn between curiosity and fear. Sam looked her directly in the eye. "Please. Just let us explain. We're here to help you."

Patricia reluctantly stepped back to let them in.

She led them to a formal sitting room. MJ looked around, gaping at the clearly expensive furniture and decorum in the room. The crystal vase alone, in it's rightful place on the polished, handcrafted oak end table, probably cost more than she paid for a month's rent at the boarding house. She must have been gawking, becuase Sam gave her a meaningful look and placed a hand on her shoulder, steering her to the couch.

Once they were all seated, Sam wasted no time. He pulled out the photo and flattened it out before handing it to Patricia.

"Mrs. Morrison, can you tell us why Sean Burke would want to harm the people in this photograph?"

Patricia held the photo and stared at it, her eyes glistening with tears. "Oh, God." She said just above a whisper.

"Look, Mrs. Morrison we're running out of time. How did you know Sean Burke and why does he want your family dead?" Scotty asked.

She fixed Scotty with a teary glare. "Who do you think you are? You don't know the first thing about me."

"I know you're wasting time. And if you don't pony up the truth you'll be responsible for more people dying."

"Scotty, that's enough." Sam said.

"What makes you think I know anything about this?" Patricia demanded, her hands trembling as she cltched the photo.

"Mom?" They all turned to the boy in his late teens who was standing in the doorway, looking back and forth between Patricia and Scotty. MJ recognized him from the photo. Nathan Morrison, Patricia's younger son. "What's wrong?" He asked coming into the room and standing beside Patricia's chair. "Who are these people?"

"Mrs. Morrison." MJ said, knowing that they had no time to explain anything further. "We need you to answer our questions and help us figure this out so we can keep your son safe." Patricia considered MJ, reaching out for her son's hand. "We're running out of time."

Patricia took a deep breath. "I gave him this picture when I visited him." She placed a hand over her mouth, stifling a sob.

"How did you know Sean?" Sam asked, leaning toward Patricia.

She looked up at Sam, a tear rolling down her cheek.

"His name wasn't Sean." She said her voice breaking. "It was Joshua. He was my son."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: I truly appreciate the reviews. Please don't be afraid to make suggestions. Constructive criticism is welcome! Here's the next chapter. Please enjoy!**

**I only own MJ and Scotty, nothing else. **

There was complete silence for all of ten seconds, followed by a sharp intake of breath from MJ, another sob from Patricia, and a "holy shit" from Scotty.

"Mom." Nathan said shaking his head, a look of utter disbelief on his face, "What are you saying?"

"Oh, Nate," Patricia turned in her chair, taking both Nathan's hands in her own. "Nate, I never meant for you to find out. I"m so sorry."

"Sorry for what? What did you do?" He asked quietly, although the look on his face said he already knew.

"Your father, it was his idea. If I had gone against him he would have left me!"

MJ stood, unable to remain quiet any longer. "Wait. You faked your own son's death and then had him committed under a different name?" She waited, staring at Patricia, who stared determinedly at the floor, still grasping Nathan's hands tightly. "Why?" No one spoke. "Why?"

Patricia finally looked up at them. Tears streaked her make up and her nose was running freely. "Randall didn't want a child with-" she made a strangled sound, covering her mouth with her hand, "a child like Joshua to get in the way of his political career. The older he got, the harder he was to handle. Randall couldn't take it. He didn't want to be distracted. He thought people would think he couldn't handle holding public office if he had a special needs child to take care of." She let out a humorless laugh. "_State Senator_. He threw our son away just to have a career as a mediocre politician."

"So you'd visit him when you went to Mount Hope on business?" Sam prompted her.

She shook her head. "Not at first. Randall wanted us to sever all ties. He said it would be easier for Joshua if we didn't see him at all. A clean break. After a few years, though, I did go see him." She looked down again. "He didn't remember who I was."

"Why didn't you just have him committed? Why fake his death?" Sam asked quietly.

Patricia met Sam's eye, but said nothing. Nathan slipped away from his mother, sitting down on the edge of the sofa next to MJ, looking grim.

"Because he didn't belong there." MJ said. Everyone turned to look at her. "He wasn't nearly severe enough to be institutionalized was he? He belonged at home with you, but you didn't want the burden or the inconvenience." MJ stood walking toward Patricia, who looked up at her, horrified. "Or the shame. So you hid him away and made nice, fat donations to keep things quiet."

"I had no choice!"

"You had a choice!" MJ shouted back. "You had a choice right from the beginning. You didn't have to walk away from your child."

Sam stood, placing a hand on MJ's shoulder. He pulled her back toward the couch. She reluctantly sat back down.

"So what's the deal with the picture?" Scotty asked impatiently.

Patricia stared at Scotty for a moment before answering. "I brought him that picture last year when I went to see him. He didn't have any photos of the family, of course. I figured no one would find that photo strange. No one would question it."

"So why is he doing away with everyone in it?" Scotty asked no one in particular.

"What are you talking about? Josh is-dead. He's not hurting anyone."

"Well maybe not him, but his spirit is pissed as hell and getting revenge on the people in that photo." Scotty answered.

"What?" Nathan asked, standing up. "This is nuts!"

"You don't know him. He was so sweet and gentle. He'd never hurt anyone, let alone his own family."

"Well maybe he was sweet and gentle before you locked him up and forgot about him." MJ said a tear rolling down her cheek. "He's angry. And he made the connection that the people in that photo were living the life that should have been his. He was smart enough to know that you wronged him. Robbed him of his freedom."

"Stop." Patricia said quietly.

"Just imagine him sitting in his room. All day, everyday with nothing to do but fixate on the people in that photo. The people who went on living their charmed lives, not giving him so much as a fleeting thought."

"Stop!" Patricia yelled, burying her head in her arms and dissolving into loud sobs.

"Enough." Sam said, standing next to MJ. "What's done is done. We need to stop him before anyone esle is hurt. Where is he buried?" He asked Patricia, standing over her.

"Wh-what? Why is that relevant?"

"Do you want us to save your remaining son or not?" Scotty asked.

Sam shot Scotty a warning glance, before turning back to Patricia. "We can...perform a ritual that will put Joshua at rest. For good. Please, we don't have much time. Where is he buried?"

"He's at St. Agnes Cemetary. The family plot. Where we pretended he was all along." She said, disgust in her voice.

* * *

><p>MJ and Scotty stayed at the Morrison's home while Sam took off quickly to salt and burn the bones. Scotty very tactfully reminded Sam that Joshua had died less than three months ago and "ain't gonna smell like posies and perfume."<p>

Patricia took to pacing around the house, wiping at her eyes and closely watching Nathan as he moved from the living room couch to the kitchen table and back again, avoiding his mother's gaze. MJ and Scotty got busy laying salt lines at all the windows and doors.

"So how do you afford this place if your husband's just a 'mediocre politician'?" Scotty asked as he finished salting the kitchen windows.

"His family has money." Patricia answered automatically, not taking her eyes off Nathan, who had just vacated the kitchen table as soon as she sat down across from him.

"You see, that's the problem with rich people. You want things just to want them. Your survival doesn't depend on it so you fall short."

"So, you're saying all rich people are lazy?" She asked tonelessly.

"I'm saying that the fear of starvation and homelessness is a powerful motivator."

"This isn't helping anything." MJ spat as she headed to the second floor to check the windows. Scotty followed.

"What, so now you're defending her?" He asked.

"Of course not, but instigating them just makes things worse."

"Well you didn't exactly hold back yourself. You let her have it, eh." She said nothing, carefully pouring salt on the bedroom window sill. He shrugged. "I get where you were coming from. I mean this has gotta really bother you. What your mom and dad did wasn't all that different. They just left you alone, to take care of yourself."

MJ froze. She slowly turned toward Scotty. "What the hell do you know about my parents?"

"Well, Dean told me about what happened. It's nothing to be ashamed of." He said placing a hand on her shoulder.

She yanked his hand off of her and stormed toward the bedroom door. She stopped quickly, turning on her heel.

"You don't know a God damn thing about me or my family. Don't you talk about my parents ever again."

She turned back around and found herself face to face with Joshua Morrison's ghost. His cold, distant eyes held her gaze. His face betrayed no emotion, but his stiff posture and unwavering stare clearly signified rage and anger. MJ stood rooted to the spot for what seemed like eternity.

"Duck!" Scotty shouted.

MJ acted on instinct, hitting the deck. She heard the shotgun blast over her head, and saw Joshua's feet disappear. Scotty pulled her to her feet, the shotgun at the ready.

"Get downstairs, now. Make a salt circle and stay inside it with those two yahoos." He said, shoving her out the door.

MJ flew down the stairs. Halfway down she heard Patricia's panicked shrieks coming from the living room. She grabbed the iron blade from her belt and ran toward the room.

"No, Josh, please! Don't hurt him! It's me you want, take me!" Patricia stood next to Joshua, pulling at his arm, as he strangled his younger brother. Joshua was completely focused on Nathan, and MJ doubted if he was even aware that anyone else was in the room.

MJ quickly approached them and slashed the blade through the spirit's torso. He disappeared in a misty cloud, leaving Nathan wide eyed, gasping for breath and clutching at his throat.

"Nathan!" Patricia screamed grabbing onto her younger son.

"Stay close to me." MJ ordered as she drew a salt line around them. "Sam, hurry up, please." She begged as she straightened up, her blade at the ready.

Scotty came into the room, gun raised. "This place is too fucking big, and there's too many fucking doors and windows. We'll never get them all." He said joining them in the circle.

Patricia was crying hysterically, still holding onto Nathan who was still coughing and rubbing his throat. MJ and Scotty stood quietly in the circle, scanning the large room.

Joshua reappeared across the room and made his way slowly toward them. His vacant stare was fixed on MJ. It did not waver as he moved slowly toward them. MJ couldn't help but stare right back at him. When he was only a few feet away, Scotty stepped in front of MJ, blocking her from view and fired off another salt round, making Joshua disappear again. This time he reappeared more quickly, to Scotty's left. Before MJ could warn Scotty, Joshua had knocked the gun out of Scotty's hands, sending it skittering across the floor and out of reach.

Scotty reached a hand behind him. "Give me your knife." He said to MJ.

She slapped it into his outstretched palm. Scotty reached out, slashing the knife at Joshua. Joshua grabbed hold of Scotty's wrist and pulled him out of the circle. Scotty was pulled to his knees and Joshua proceeded to kick him in the stomach, making him fall back and slide several feet backward.

MJ jumped out of the circle and almost instantly Joshua had his hands around her throat. MJ clawed at his cold, dead hands with all her strength, but he didn't even seem to notice the effort. His eyes stared straight into hers, never blinking. She felt her head grow light and her lungs burn. The room began to spin and go dark. Just as she felt herself slipping away, Joshua burst into flames and disappeared. MJ fell to her knees, pulling air into her lungs, bracing herself with one palm on the floor.

"It's about time, Sammy." She choked out.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks again for all the reviews! I own nothing. Enjoy!**

MJ knelt on the floor, struggling to pull air into her lungs. Her throat burned and she still felt light headed. She saw Scotty getting slowly to his feet across the room, rubbing the back of his head. He approached her and held out his hand. She looked up at him. No smirk. She took his hand and was hauled to her feet.

Nathan and Patricia were now kneeling in the circle, arms wrapped around one another. Patricia was still sobbing. MJ felt bad for Nathan. He had just learned that his parents were liars, his brother was alive- until three months ago- and that monsters were real, all in about two hours' time.

Patricia got to her feet, wiping at her eyes. She looked uncertainly at MJ, like she wanted to approach her, but was deathly afraid of leaving the safety of the circle.

"You're safe now. He won't come back." MJ turned and began gathering up the weapons they had scattered on the coffe table. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction when she noticed the long scratch that now marred the polished wood surface, caused by one of the guns.

"Where did he-where is he now?" Patricia asked her quietly, as if afraid of the answer.

MJ turned back to her, her hands full. Patricia looked eerily like Joshua at the moment. Lifeless and empty. MJ thought the honest answer of "Who the hell knows?" might push her over the edge.

"He's where he's supposed to be. He's at rest." She said before turning and placing the weapons back into the duffel.

Scotty was in the kitchen making an ice pack for his head. MJ swung the bag over her shoulder and headed toward the front door. She wanted to be away from them. They had a lifetime of family drama to sort through and she didn't want any part of it. She had plenty of her own.

Scotty met her at the door, heading out first.

"Thank you." Patricia said simply as MJ headed out after Scotty. MJ made no response.

They waited at the end of the long driveway for Sam to return. The moon and stars were noticably absent, hidden behind the clouds, making it pitch dark. MJ paced back and forth, the adrenaline starting to wear off leaving exhaustion and a bad headache in it's place. Scotty was standing still, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against a tree. After a few minutes, MJ dropped the heavy duffel at the side of the driveway. When she turned back she saw Scotty staring at her intently.

"What?" She asked warily.

"That was intense, eh." He wore a suggestive leer, and MJ found herself actually wishing for the smirk instead.

"I'm just glad it's over." MJ replied, hugging herself against the damp chill of the night air. _Come on, Sam. _She kept her eyes trained on the road, willing the Impala to appear. She really didn't like that look Scotty was giving her. She heard him move away from the tree, but didn't turn around.

"Hunts always make me horny." He said from right behind her. MJ was startled at how close her was. She hadn't heard him approach her.

"Ew, God! You're disgusting." She said turning to face him. "I appreciate you helping me out in there, but it changes _nothing_. You're still a creeper and I'm still fifteen and not interested. You'll be gone by morning and I'll never have to see you again. So in the meantime, pretend I don't exist, got it?"

She heard the familiar rumble of the Impala. It was the sweetest sound in the world.

Scotty pulled away from her and with a wink, grabbed the duffel as Sam pulled up to them.

"Whatever you say." Scotty whispered to her with a smirk as he got in the passenger seat.

Sam was on the phone with Dean when he arrived. Scotty insisted that Sam stop on the way back for more beer, saying they needed to celebrate finishing the case and "smoking the spirit". Dean, hearing him over the phone apparently agreed, because as Sam started to protest Scotty's suggestion, he was seemingly cut off by Dean and then gave a disgruntled "fine" before snapping the phone shut. Dean called right back, wanting the full account of what had happened at the Morrison's in Sam's absence. Scotty gladly filled him in, giving a full blow by blow of the fight and exaggerating the parts where he came to MJ's aid.

When they arrived back in Tupper Lake, it was nearly two in the morning, MJ trudged inside, intent on going right to bed. She opened the door and was immediately accosted by Dean.

"Let me see." He said taking hold of her chin and turning her head from side to side. "Are you okay?" He asked taking in the beginnings of bruises on her neck.

"I'm fine, Dean. My throat's just a little sore, but I'll be fine."

"You see? This is why I didn't want you going along!" Dean said as Sam and Scotty came in. Scotty had a case of Blue Light and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Relax, Dean. You got hurt a lot worse than I did and nobody's on your case." MJ pointed out as she peeled off her hoodie and pulled her hair out of it's ponytail.

"Yeah, well there's no caseworker checking up on me who can take me to foster care if I get hurt."

"Whatever, Dean." She shot him a nasty look as she went into the bathroom to shower.

Dean looked after her curiously, wondering what he had done to piss her off this time.

"Let's get this party started." Scotty said, pouring shots of Jack Daniels for the three of them. He had pulled the shot glasses from his duffel bag, much to Dean's amusement.

Scotty handed one to Dean who took it without hesitation. Sammy however eyed Scotty skeptically, still not feeling like there was much to this case that warranted celebrating. It was tragic, really.

"Come on, Sammy." Scotty said, seeing Sam's uncertain expression. "We did our job, saved some lives, why not pat ourselves on the back?" Scotty asked still holding the glass out to Sam.

"It's Sam." Sam said taking the shot.

"Alright, there ya go!" Scotty laughed raising his own glass. "To cases that remind us that there are people out there just as fucked up as we are."

"Amen to that." Dean said downing his shot.

* * *

><p>MJ heard them laughing and talking as she undressed. She turned on the shower and let the water warm up as she inspected the bruising on her neck in the mirror. It didn't look so bad right now, but she knew from experience it would look worse in the morning. At least her throat was starting to feel better. She got in the shower, letting out a sigh. Scotty would be gone tomorrow. She couldn't wait. She hated to admit it, but he had stepped up tonight at the Morrison's. She would give him that. But he was still a huge sleeze, which he demonstrated, yet again, with the crap he pulled right after in the driveway. She was on edge every second of everyday. She would only relax when she was sure he was gone. She was royally pissed at Dean for telling Scotty all about what happened with her mother. It wasn't his business and she fully intended to let Dean know how angry she was. Once Scotty was good and gone that is.<p>

MJ turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. She noticed immediately that it was far too quiet on the other side of the bathroom door. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, straining to hear any noise. Nothing. She tiptoed toward the door, listening carefully. Something wasn't right. She opened the door a crack. No light was coming from the other room. She opened the door further, the light from the bathroom illuminating the scene in front of her. Her heart dropped into her stomach and an involuntary gasp escaped her lips.

Sam and Dean were tied to chairs, sitting back to back, hands secured behind them. Their heads both lolled forward, chins resting on their chests. MJ stood frozen for a few seconds, before instinct kicked in and she made toward her brothers. She had taken one step out of the bathroom, when an arm wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the floor, pulling her back.

"Hey, where ya goin'?" Scotty asked in her ear. He held her tightly against him, his mouth at the back of her neck.

"Let go of me!" She yelled, trying to squirm away from him. This only made him hold her tighter. She looked over at Sam and Dean, who still weren't moving at all. "What did you do to them?"

He hauled her over to one of the beds and tossed her down roughly.

"Relax. They're fine. In fact, they should be coming around any minute." He said walking toward them. MJ scooted to the edge of the bed closest to the door. She considered making a run for it, but didn't want to leave her brothers alone here, unconscious, with this crazy person.

Scotty approached Dean and without preamble punched him in the nose.

"Don't! What's wrong with you? He can't even fight back!" MJ shouted at him.

Scotty ignored her. "Dean, wake up." He said in a sing-song voice. "The show's about to start. You don't want to miss this, eh." Dean stirred, his nose bleeding freely from both nostrils. "That-a-boy."

Dean lifted his head minutely, his eyes half open. He took in Scotty, standing in front of him. His expression cleared slowly as he regained awareness.

"MJ." He slurred, still looking at Scotty.

"She's right here, Dean." Scotty said making his way back to the bed. MJ stood and backed away until she was against the wall, next to the front door. "She and I are gonna get to know eachother better." He smirked at MJ as he walked up to her, grabbed her by her still wet hair and threw her back onto the bed. She let out a pained whimper as she braced herself with her hands. The towel came loose and she scrambled to cover herself. Scotty laughed. "Careful, now. Don't wanna give up the farm just yet." He turned toward Dean as he climbed onto the bed. "Dean, are you with us?" He asked.

Dean was struggling to free his hands. "I'm gonna kill you, you son of a bitch." He said, his speech more clear and his eyes more focused.

"What did you do? Drug them?" MJ asked, truly concerned, but also trying to stall him and put off whatever horrible things he had planned for her.

"Just a little Triazolam. Knocks 'em out cold, but not for too long." Scotty said looking back at Dean and Sam. "The glasses were coated with it. They never saw it coming. After all, I drank from the same bottle, so it had to be safe, right?" He turned back to MJ. "None for you, though. I want to make sure you're wide awake for this."

"Whatever you're thinking of doing to her, you'd better reconsider. Because if you touch a hair on her head, you won't leave this cabin alive." Dean said in a deadly quiet voice.

Scotty's response was to take hold of MJ's face in his hands and crush their lips together. He forced his tongue between her lips despite her efforts to keep her mouth sealed shut. She shoved against his chest with her forearms, but he only pulled her closer. One of his hands made it's way to her behind. His mouth still on hers, she snarled and dug her finger nails into his chest. This only seemed to encourage him further. Tears stung her eyes as she realized she couldn't fight him off.

"McWhorter!" Dean yelled, a look of pure rage on his face as Scotty grabbed hold of MJ. Dean's jaw clenched tightly as Scotty proceeded to roughly kiss MJ.

MJ cried out when he finally pulled away. He turned to Dean, hatred and venom in his voice. "What's wrong, Dean? Don't like it when someone fucks with your family?"

MJ wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, adjusting the towel again and dragging herself further away from Scotty. She looked at her brothers and noticed that Sammy's hands were moving ever so slightly. She looked closer and saw his eyes were just barely open and he had a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Yeah, well, I didn't like it so much either when you and your dad fucked with my family."

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked. He could feel Sammy working at the ropes, and was hoping to keep McWhorter talking until Sammy could work them free.

Scotty shook his head, chuckling humorlessly. "So typical of you not to remember me. Of course, I was twelve and my name wasn't Scotty McWhorter." He stopped laughing, the smile replaced by a look of disgust. "I'd like to think that if I killed a kid's father, I would remember his face."

"What are you talking about?" Dean repeated.

"1991, North Cascades National Park in Washington. You and your dad were hunting a werewolf. Me and my dad were camping. Something bit my dad. Something big." Scotty recited all of this as if he had prepared the speech ahead of time. Like he had been waiting to say it for years. "Your dad found out someone had been bitten before you got around to killing the thing. You tracked us down. Found out my dad had turned. You shot him in the heart. He never even knew what he had become. He was innocent."

"I remember." Dean said quietly. "I'm sorry, but your father was killing people. We didn't have a choice."

"_You_ took the shot, Dean. I watched the whole thing. He changed, you saw him go out the bedroom window, and you didn't even hesitate. I saw it all. And I see it every night when I close my eyes!" He yelled. "Just like I see the look of _pride_ on your father's face when you made the shot. I never got to see that look from my father again after that night."

"So you finding us, that wasn't a coincidence. You've been planning this." Dean said. He could feel that the ropes were looser, but still not loose enough. He had to keep Scotty talking.

"I spent years looking for you. I studied up on you. Found out you and your dad kept in contact with Bobby. I knew eventually he'd lead me to you. I didn't expect the three of you to show up while I was there. That was just pure luck."

"If you're not really a hunter, how do you know so much about it?"

Scotty stood and walked quickly toward Dean. "Don't you say I'm not a hunter! I've hunted just as many monsters as you have. Maybe more. But all the while, I was hunting you, too, Dean. Learning everything about you that I could." He started pacing in front of Dean, a maniacal look in his eyes. "At first I was disappointed that your dad wasn't with you. After all, he's just as responsible for killing my dad as you are. But then I realized, there's no better revenge than torturing and killing his entire family." He turned back toward MJ, who was listening in rapt silence. "I knew about _you_ all along. I had plans to come visit you in Chicago. Make a nice present for your brother and father. You can imagine how excited I was when you showed up on Bobby's doorstep along with Sam and Dean." He made his way back to the bed and grabbed MJ's ankle to stop her from moving away from him. He pulled her toward the bottom of the bed and straddled her, pinning her beneath his weight.

"Come on, man, what happened with your dad is between us. Leave her out of it, she's just a kid." Dean said desperately. _Come on, Sammy, come on! _Dean thought. Sam was making progress, but not quickly enough.

Scotty turned to Dean, still holding MJ down, pinning her arms above her head. MJ craned her neck, so she could watch Sammy. Paraying to God he almost had them free.

"Yeah, she's just a kid. Like I was when I had to go live in a foster home, because my father was killed and I didn't have anyone else. I was her age when I had to go into a juvenile detention facility because none of the foster parents wanted me." He paused, fixing Dean with a look of pure hatred. "I had nobody, Dean. You took away everything I had, and I'm gonna do the same to you." He turned back to MJ who was softly pleading with him not to hurt her.

"Shh." He said placing his forefinger on her lips. "I'm not gonna kill you. Yet. First we're gonna have some fun." He smirked down at her. "And good old Dean is gonna watch."

Scotty reached down and ripped open her towel, looking down at her naked form appreciatively. "You know, this isn't just about revenge. I really am attracted to you." He whispered, loud enough for only her to hear.

"Please don't do this." MJ begged, tears streaming down her face. "Please."

Scotty pulled off his shirt and leaned forward, kissing MJ's neck. "Don't worry, I'll make it good for you. Just relax."

**Please review!**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Thanks for the awesome reviews. I planned to have this up much sooner since I left you with a cliffhanger last time, so my apologies. **

**I do not own Supernatural.**

**Enjoy!**

Dean saw red as McWhorter ripped MJ's towel open easily, despite MJ's attempts to hold it closed. He began pulling at the ropes frantically.

"Sammy you gotta hurry up, man!" He said in a harsh whisiper.

"Hold still. I've almost got it."

Dean felt the ropes fall from his wrists just as Scotty leaned down and began kissing MJ. He quickly and soundlessly untied his legs. With a snarl, he launched himself forward and grabbed Scotty by his shoulders.

"Get off of her!" Dean growled, pulling Scotty back and shoving him onto the floor. He spared his sister a tersery glance before jumping on Scotty, drilling his fists into the animal's face repeatedly. "You're a dead man." He threatened as he landed punch after punch.

Sam had freed himself as well, and seeing that Dean didn't need any help at the moment, hurried to MJ's side. She was sitting up now, the towel wrapped firmly around her once more, trembling from head to toe, silent tears rolling down her cheeks as she stared at Dean, pummeling Scotty on the floor.

"Hey, hey." Sam said kneeling beside her on the bed. He held her face in both hands and turned her to face him. He looked her over. "Are you okay?"

She nodded weakly, breaking down into hysterical sobs. Sam held her close, keeping one eye on Dean. MJ pulled away from Sam, looking up at him.

"Stop him." She said urgently.

Sam looked down at her, bewildered.

"Don't let him kill him." MJ begged. "Please." Her eyes were as wide as saucers as she pleaded with Sam.

Before Sam could even process her request, an ungodly howl sounded from the floor. They both turned to see Scotty shoving Dean off of him, two fingers of his right hand pressing on Dean's wound. MJ gasped when she realized that Scotty's fingers had breached the stitches and were actually _in_ the wound. Dean had gone ashen, his face drawn with pain.

"How do you like that you mother fucker?" Scotty yelled as he removed his fingers from the gash and hit Dean with a right hook to the jaw, seemingly unconcerned with the blood spurting from his nose or that his right eye was beginning to swell shut. Scotty got in a few more punches before Sam came to Dean's aid, tackling Scotty. They rolled a few times before Scotty overtook Sam. Sitting on top of Sam, his arm across Sam's throat, Scotty laughed. "Oh, Sammy. All that time and effort your father and brother spent training you. What a waste. You just don't have it in you, do you?" He pressed down harder. Sam grabbed onto Scotty's arm, clawing at it, trying to breathe as his windpipe was being crushed. "So this is what it's come to. You're not so special after all, eh."

The gun shot rang out as Scotty pulled his arm back. At first Sam thought it was the noise that made him loosen his grip, until he saw the blood seeping through a hole in Scotty's shoulder. Scotty's eyes went wide as he clasped a hand over the bullet hole in his shoulder. He stumbled off of Sam and turned to see the pistol, still raised in MJ's hands, pointed directly at him. He got slowly to his feet, hand still presssed firmly over his bleeding shoulder.

The smirk on his lips looked out of place on his clearly pained face. "Nice shot, sweetheart."

"If it was a nice shot you wouldn't be breathing." MJ choked out, tears still falling down her face.

"Oh, now I don't believe you were trying to kill me. You aren't a murderer, not like Dean and your Dad." He moved a step closer to her, gesturing between the two of them with his index finger. "You and me, we're kindred spirits. Orphaned. Abandoned. Robbed of our childhood. Forced to grow up too soon." He moved closer to her. His voice barely a whisper. "Come on, sweetheart, drop the gun."

Sam had gotten to his feet and was quickly approaching Scotty from behind. MJ swiftly flipped the pistol around in her hand, firmly grasped the barrel, and slammed the butt of the gun into Scotty's temple with all of her strength. Scotty collapsed in a heap on the floor at her feet, unconscious.

"I'm not your sweetheart. And I'm _nothing_ like you." She seethed before spitting on his completely still form.

Sam had stopped in his tracks, staring at his sister in awe. She silently handed Sam the gun before kneeling beside Dean, who lay unconscious on the floor. There was a great deal of blood on his shirt. She lifted it up, checking the damage. "You'll have to restitch it. And fast. " She said to Sam, who was still watching her carefully, seemingly dazed. When he didn't respond she retrieved the first aid kit from his duffel and brought it to Dean's side. "Snap out of it, Sam! He's really bleeding, here."

Sam finally made his way over, assessing Dean's condition. MJ retreated to the bathroom and hurriedly dressed before returning to the main room to help Sam. Dean was awake now, and starting to regain some color. Sam had left him on the floor so he could quickly get to work. Dean grimaced as Sam worked the needle in and out of his skin.

"How's it going?' MJ asked Sam as she knelt beside Dean.

"Almost done." He said without looking up.

Dean reached for MJ's hand, gripping it tightly. "I'm sorry, Kid. Are you okay?"

"Fine, Dean. Don't worry about me, just try and be careful, at least until you heal."

Dean looked beyond her, to where Scotty lay. His jaw clenched as Sam worked another stitch through. "Don't worry. I'm gonna take care of him. I'm not above killing an unconscious man." He said, venom in his voice.

"No, Dean. You're not gonna kill anyone." MJ said matter of factly.

'Well I'm not letting him live after what he did to you."

"You're not a murderer, Dean." MJ argued.

"I kill monsters everyday. Just because he's human doesn't mean he's not evil."

MJ shook her head vigorously. "No. I won't let you."

Dean let out a noise that was half laugh, half pained grunt. "How are you going to stop me?"

"Enough." Sam said. "Dean, less talking more lying still would help. One more stitch and I'm done." He looked up at Dean. "And you're not killing McWhorter. I have a plan."

"What kind of plan?"

"He's got ten different ID's on him, none of them his real identity. He's not a citizen and he's got a small arsenal in his motel room." Sam said tying off the final stitch. "We call the police and tip them off, they'll get Border Patrol here and in the meantime we'll get as far away from here as we can."

Dean stood carefully, heading to his duffel bag. "No way, Sammy. Prison is too good for this piece of shit. He's going straight to hell." He retrieved his pistol and walked determinedly toward Scotty. He raised it, taking aim at Scotty's head. Sam and MJ froze. Dean hesitated for a moment. "MJ," he said his eyes locked on his target. "Get out."

"No, Dean. I'm not moving." MJ said, realizing he didn't want to shoot someone in front of her. As long as she stayed where she was, she was certain Dean wouldn't go through with this. She planned to do everything in her power to keep her brother from committing murder.

"MJ, now!" He yelled.

"You're not killing anyone, Dean. You're better than that."

Dean turned to Sam, the rage plain on his face. He looked from Sam to MJ, then back to Scotty. He cursed loudly before lowering the gun. He moved quickly, gathering up all of their weapons and other belongings that were scattered around the room.

"Pack your stuff. Now. We're leaving in ten minutes."

* * *

><p>They drove in complete silence, the tension in the car almost unbearable. No one spoke at all, with the exception of Sam, who made the anonymous tip to the police once they had left the village of Tupper Lake safely behind. After that, no one made a peep. Dean focused on the road, not even bothering to turn the radio on. Sam looked determinedly out the passenger side window. MJ put her ipod on, but stole occassional glances at her brothers. She was freaking out on the inside. It was like the emotional aftermath of the nightmares. Times a thousand. She had been completely vulnerable. Totally helpless against him. She couldn't sleep, because when she closed her eyes, Scotty's face loomed in front of her. She couldn't think about it. She focused instead on trying to decipher her brothers' feelings. Sam, she could read easily. Guilt was written all over his face. She had a guess what that was about. He was regretting ever agreeing to keep Scotty's inappropriate beahavior from Dean. She would have to get him alone and let him know it wasn't his fault. That she didn't blame him. Dean was a different story entirely. She never knew quite what was going on in his head. There was something brewing beneath the surface, but exactly what, she couldn't tell. She did know one thing: when he finally blew, there would be nowhere to hide.<p>

The sun was coming up as they neared the New Jersey state line. They had been driving for nearly five hours and MJ was still fighting sleep. She needed caffeine. She decided she had to break the silence.

"Hey, Dean? Can we take a bathroom break?"

Dean made no response, but quickly pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and came to an abrupt stop.

She raied her eyebrows at him. "Okay, I didn't mean right this second. The next Mobil Station would have been fine." MJ said, wishing she had kept her mouth shut and sensing Dean was done doing just that.

Dean turned in his seat to face her, his expression unreadable. "You lied to me, didn't you? I asked you about McWhorter bothering you and you lied to my face." He accused.

MJ couldn't deny it, but also couldn't seem to find her voice to confess. Her silence seemed to say it all though, because Dean's face grew red and he slammed a fist into the steering wheel.

"Dean, calm down." Sam said quietly.

"Why?" Dean asked her, ignoring Sam.

MJ tried to hold his gaze, but after a few seconds could no longer take it, and looked down at her hands. "I was trying to minimize the drama. I didn't want to give you something else to worry about and cause another fight. Besides, I had it under control."

A deadly silence followed, punctuated by a sharp intake of breath from Sam, who was watching Dean as if he were a snake, preparing to strike.

"You had it under control?" Dean said finally. "You had it under control!" He took a deep breath. "MJ, do you realize that we could have avoided all of this if you had just come to one of us and told us what was happening?" He turned back around in his seat, looking out the windshield. "I mean, it's fine if you don't trust me, but you should have at least gone to Sam or Bobby. We can't help you if we don't know what's going on. You let things get way out of hand and look what almost happened!"

"Dean, that's enough." Sam said.

_Oh, shit, _MJ thought_. Sam, don't do anything stupid. Just keep your mouth shut._

"No, Sammy. It's not okay. She needs to know she can't keep shit like this from us."

"She didn't."

_Oh boy_.

"What?" Dean asked looking from one sibling to the other, waiting for an explanation.

"She told me about it. At Bobby's. I agreed not to tell you."

"No, Sam, I made you promise not to tell him. It's my fault. Besides, Dean's right. I didn't come to you. If you hadn't caught him that night, I never would have said anything to you."

Dean put his hand up, signaling his siblings to be quiet. He turned to Sam. "Caught him doing what?" He asked.

"It was nothing Dean, really-" MJ hurried to explain, but was cut off by Dean.

"No." He said, his hand up again, palm toward her. "I asked Sam." He never took his eyes off his brother. "Caught him doing what?' He repeated.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Dean. Are we really gonna argue about this? What difference does it make now?"

"It makes a big fucking difference Sammy!" He jabbed his finger in MJ's direction. "I am responsible for keeping her safe. I can't do that if you and her are keeping secrets like a couple of school girls!"

MJ sat there, feeling helpless, tears welling up in her eyes. She decided to try to explain again. "Dean, please. It's my fault-"

"MJ, just shut up! This is between me and Sammy."

"Don't you talk to her like that!" Sam shouted, his face reddening.

"Oh, are you giving me more parenting advice? Hang on, let me write it down, so I don't forget." Dean said sarcastically.

"Grow up, Dean. You're just jealous that she's willing to talk to me. Maybe if you didn't have your head up McWhorter's ass, you would have realized that something wasn't right."

"Yeah, I made the decision to work with the guy. What choice did I have? I needed someone to watch my back. Someone who wasn't so preoccupied, he couldn't handle some simple research!"

Sam shook his head. "So we're back to that again. God, Dean you are like a dog with a bone. You just can't let anything go."

"Well, forgive me, Sam, but in our line of work, if _you're_ not focused, it's _my_ ass that's toast."

"I have always had your back."

"Yeah, well, this time you definitely were not on your game. I'm sorry about Jess, I've told you that a million times. But you gotta get over that and do your job."

"That's it." Sam said removing his seatbelt. "Enough talk." Sam reached for his door handle.

"You wanna go big boy. Okay. I like my chances." Dean opened his door.

The slamming of one of the back doors made them both pause before they could get out of the car. They turned and saw that MJ had gotten out. Dean turned in his seat and saw her walking quickly down the side of the road.

"Damn it." Dean said under his breath, getting out of the car. Sam followed suit, both jogging down the road to catch up with MJ.

"Hey, hey, hey! Where ya goin'?" Dean deamnded, grabbing her arm.

"Away." She said yanking her arm from his grip and continuing on.

"Away? Just get back in the car."

"Away from you!" She shouted turning back again to face him. "I don't want to listen to your bullshit anymore!"

Dean followed behind her as she walked on. "Oh, yeah? Where are you planning to go?"

"I was fine on my own before, I'll be fine on my own again." She said, quickening her stride.

"Don't be ridiculous. Get back in the car." Dean said taking hold of her arm again.

"No." She said, pulling free again.

"Mary Jane." Dean said reaching for her once more.

"Get the fuck off of me!" She screamed, turning back and slapping Dean across the face. "Leave me alone." She made no attempt to walk away this time, frozen, shocked at herself.

Sam stood beside them, watching his brother for his reaction.

Dean stared at her for several moments. Finally he spoke. His voice quiet, but stern. His anger barely contained.

"Get your ass back in the car or I will pick you up and carry you back myself and don't think for a second I won't do it."

She crossed her arms, staring him down. "Screw. You." With that she turned and was on her way again.

She was swiftly lifted off her feet and tossed over Dean's shoulder.

She screamed. "Put me down, Dean!"

Dean hauled her back to the car, his right arm hooked around her hips as her legs kicked helplessly. Dean opened the backdoor to the Impala and tossed her inside, still literally kicking and screaming.

He slammed the door shut and turned to walk around to the driver's side.

"Was that really necessary Dean?" Sam asked, opening the passenger side door.

Dean didn't answer. He got back behind the wheel and looked in the rearview mirror to see MJ culred up on the backseat. Silent tears made their way down her face, her expression betraying her pain. He knew she was hurting and that his reaction had only made it worse. He knew he should apologize. What he didn't know, was how to make any of this right.

**Please review!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews. They are truly appreciated. Jenna's in this chapter. I have worked in the child protective field, and always hate the way CPS is portrayed in movies, books and tv shows, so I've tried t write Jenna as the ultimate caseworker:) I plan to bring her back from time to time, so feel free to tell me what you think of her.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.**

**Enjoy!**

Dean was aimlessly driving, changing directions at random. After their fight, and Dean hauling MJ back to the car, the siblings went back to their tense silence. This time MJ had no intentions of breaking it. Dean did stop at a relatively clean gas station. MJ got out of the car without a word and headed inside as Dean got out to pump gas. Sam joined MJ, buying a box of powdered sugar doughnuts and three coffees. Once back in the car, Sam helped himself to a doughnut before passing the box silently to MJ. He then placed the box in the middle of the dash and pushed it toward Dean. Dean eyed the box, but never took his hands off the steering wheel, his anger toward Sam still plain on his face. He did take the coffee, though.

Around ten in the morning, Dean started to head west into Pennsylvania. They made two more short stops throughout the day, and nine hours later they arrived in Dayton, Ohio, and Dean announced they would stay there for the night. Dean must have been running on pure adrenaline and fury, driving fourteen hours straight after being up all night.

Dean pulled up to a bar called Little Stevie's just outside the city limits. It looked like a real dive, but the worn sign said they served food, which was really their only criteria. Dean parked the car and headed inside, Sam and MJ following in his wake. MJ was dead on her feet. She was longing for a comfortable bed, and dreading closing her eyes all at once. Dean picked a booth in the back and immediately grabbed a menu. After they ordered, the silence continued. It wasn't nearly as tense and awkward as it had been in the car, since the restaurant was so noisy, but it still irritated the hell out of MJ. After about ten minutes she huffed and swiftly got out of the booth.

"Bathroom." She snapped as she stormed away. Dean scanned the bar area, watching MJ as she made her way into the ladies' room. Dean then busied himself with gawking at a group of girls gathered at a high top table in the bar area.

Sam couldn't hold it in any longer.

"You know what, Dean? This is bullshit." Sam said, looking his brother in the eye. Dean just looked back at him, completely bemused. "Do you even comprehend what happened to her back there?" He lowered his voice. "What he almost _did_ to her? And your solution is to scream at her and then ignore her?" Sam shook his head. "She's hurting Dean."

"Don't you think I know that?" Dean asked leaning across the table toward his brother. "What would you have me do? She doesn't want to talk to me. She doesn't want me in her business. She made that clear when she went to you and kept me in the dark."

"She's a kid, Dean. She doesn't know what she wants. What she needs."

"Exactly. Which is why I blame you for not coming to me instead of promising her you wouldn't."

Sam made no response.

"You know what? You talk to her." Dean said sliding out of the booth. "She prefers you anyway." He said before walking away.

Dean went straight to the front door and stormed out. He strolled across the parking lot, running his hands through his hair, taking deep breaths. He felt like a grade A asshole, no two ways about it. He was frustrated with MJ for keeping him in the dark about McWhorter. He was furious with Sam for not coming to him right away. Most of all, he was completely disgusted with himself for reacting the way he did. Give him a monster, he'd kill it. Someone messes with one of his siblings, he'll lay them out. It was the aftermath of the fight where he was lacking. He and his father didn't discuss their feelings. It simply wasn't done. But he didn't want MJ keeping that all locked up inside, eating away at her. Considering he couldn't beat it out of her, he had no idea how to help her work through it.

Dean made his way back inside, went to the bar, and ordered a shot of tequila. He downed it quickly, and returned to the parking lot, his throat still burning. Before he could think better of it, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed.

She answered on the second ring.

"Hello?"

"Jenna, hey. It's Dean. Dean Winchester."

"Hi, Dean. Is everything okay with MJ?"

Dean started to say "Fine" but instead a frsutrated, growling sigh escpaed his lips.

Jenna laughed. And rather than becoming annoyed, Dean found that the sound of her laughter actually put him at ease. "I know that sound." She said. "That's the 'I have an angsty, hormonal teenager whose stubborn as hell' sigh. What'd she do?"

Dean was pacing the parking lot, engrossed in his conversation. "It's what she isn't doing that's got me going." he said. "She won't talk to me. I mean she talks to me, but she won't _talk_ to me, ya know?"

Jenna mercifully did not laugh at Dean's struggle to explain. "She's still not opening up. She's keeping important things from you?"

"Bingo. And there was some pretty serious stuff going on that I found out after the fact. She put herself in danger by keeping it from me." Dean said. A voice in his head was telling him to shut up. Asking him what he was doing telling the child protective worker that MJ had been in grave peril. But a louder, more prevalant voice was cheering him on, fueled by the overwhelming sense of relief and comfort that came from confiding in her.

"Is she in danger now?"

"No, I took care of it, but it was a close call."

Jenna paused before responding, taking a deep breath. "Dean, do you remember when you first came to get MJ? I showed you the conditions MJ was living in."

"How could I forget?"

"I didn't show you that for dramatic effect. I wanted you to get a sense of what your sister had been through. She hasn't had an easy life, Dean. And she hasn't had anyone that she could trust to take care of her. She learned that she could only count on herself. That's not something you can remedy in a few short months.

"Well what do I have to say to convince her I'm not going anywhere? That she can trust me?"

"Well, for starters you can say just that. 'I'm not going anwhere. You can trust me.' Tell her that everyday. Every hour on the hour, if need be. Whenever she's being defiant or tight lipped." Jenna paused. "But more important than what you _say_, is what you _do_. Dean, you have to be excessively patient with her, but persisent. Show her that she can't push you away and that no matter what kind of crap she pulls, you're not going to toss her out like yesterday's trash. That's what she's waiting for. For you to get sick of taking care of her and give her the boot."

Dean scoffed. "She knows I would never do that no matter what she did."

"Are you sure about that, Dean?"

"That I would never give her the boot? Yeah, I'm sure."

"No, that she really believes that."

He made no response.

"You've got to earn her trust, Dean. She's not going to make it easy. But I have a feeling you Winchesters like a challenge."

"Mmm. True. The problem is I can't win this one with brute force and that's my usual MO."

"Dean, I have complete faith in you. Now go prove me right."

* * *

><p>Dean talked with Jenna for a few more minutes. She not so subtly reminded him that MJ needed to keep up on her school work, which Dean was certain she hadn't touched since before they were at Bobby's. Jenna also asked about counseling and Dean explained that with all the moving around, it was difficult to get her established with a therapist. He left out the fact that MJ told the last counselor that if she spent another minute talking to him she would be forced to hang herself, and promised Jenna he would get her back in to see someone.<p>

Dean headed back inside, the knots in his stomach and pounding in his head slightly lessened. Now starving, he walked swiftly past the bar toward their table. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked back at the bar, hoping he had been mistaken. MJ was seated on a bar stool, leaning in towards a guy in army fatigues. They were watching something on his smartphone. Well, MJ was focused on the video. The guy was enjoying the view MJ's posture had created. His eyes were practically glued to her chest. MJ either didn't notice or didn't care. Dean stood there, frozen, as the bartender brought them two shots, and after toasting one another, they slammed them. MJ shivered slightly and whooped before setting the glass back down, and laughing hysterically at something the guy had said. Dean considered her carefully. She was drowning her pain. And she seemed frighteningly comfortable doing it. Trying to keep his cool and Jenna's advice at the forefront of his mind, Dean made his way over to them. He stood behind them, his arms crossed, wiating for her to notice him. They were back to watching the video on his phone, and Dean saw it was footage from a kickboxing match. Dean rolled his eyes when he recognized one of the fighters as the tool sitting in front of him.

"Another shot?" the guy asked her when the video ended. She looked up to answer him and caught Dean's eye. Her smile vanished and she sighed heavily as she got unsteadily to her feet.

"Hey, Dean." She said to him before turning to the guy. "AJ, it's been real. See you around."

AJ turned toward Dean as MJ stumbled forward, Dean grabbing her arm to steady her.

"Boyfriend?" He asked Dean, incredulously.

"Brother." Dean answered, placing a hand on MJ's back as she wobbled again. "And by the way," He said turning back to the guy. "She's fifteen. So, no, she won't be seeing you around." He gave the guy a death glare before guiding MJ back to their booth.

"How much did you have?" Dean asked.

"Three...I think." She said, looking down at her feet.

"Inside of twenty minutes, that's really great MJ." Dean said disgusted, as they reached Sam.

"Where were you guys? Your food's cold." He asked.

MJ groped at the table, trying to maneuver into the booth.

"What the hell happened to her?" Sam asked, watching MJ as she giggled to herself.

"She's drunk, Sammy. What, did you think she was in the bathroom all this time?"

"I figured she was with you." Sam defended.

Dean just shook his head. He turned to MJ. "Eat your dinner. You need something in your stomach to soak up the alcohol."

"How the hell did you get served?" Sam asked as MJ shoved french fries into her mouth.

"Some doucher was feeding her shots." Dean answered.

"His name was AJ," MJ said, her mouth full. "And he was not a doucher. He's a kickboxer."

Sam tried to hide his amusement by going back to his salad.

"Yeah, I'll give him kickboxing." Dean said, digging into his burger.

"Whatever, Dean." MJ said, She reached for her water, knocking it over, sending it spilling all over the table. Sam hurriedly tried to mop it up as it dripped over the edge, onto Dean's lap.

Dean jumped up. "Damn it!" He yelled, wiping at his pants with a napkin.

"I'm sorry." MJ said getting to her feet with difficulty. "I'm sorry I ruin everything." She walked as quickly as she could past the bar and out the front door.

Dean watched her go before turning to Sam. "Jeez, I thought she was moody when she was sober." He said before following her out. He scanned the parking lot and spotted her making her way toward the road, in the opposite direction of the Impala. MJ was picking her way along the stone parking lot, when she suddenly pitched forward, falling face first on the ground.

"MJ!" Dean yelled making his way quickly toward her. When he reached her, she was sitting on the ground, her legs pulled up to her chest, crying. Dean noticed fresh scrapes across both knees. He crouched down in front of her. "You okay?" He asked.

She struggled to her feet, pushing Dean away when he tried to help her up. She turned and continued on her way.

"MJ, come on. Let's go back to the car, get a motel, get you in bed."

MJ turned back suddenly, nearly smashing into Dean who had been following behind her.

"Why did you tell Scotty about my mother?" She asked, fresh tears rolling down her cheeks. "How could you?"

Dean looked at her, bewildered. "What are you talking about?"

"You told him about my mother, how she left. You told him about Dad not coming for me." She yelled, crossing her arms over her chest. "How could you?" She repeated.

Dean cleared his throat, feeling awkward. "MJ, it was just talk. We had a few beers, he asked how you ended up with us. If I had known who that son of a bitch was. What he would do-"

"Do you know what it was like for me when he put his creepy hands on me, and told me he knew how I was feeling?" She asked.

Dean ran his hand over his face. "MJ, I am sorry for telling him about your mother. I didn't mean anything by it. But if you had come to me, _told_ me what was going on with him-"

"I can picture it. Commiserating with him over a beer. Telling him all about how you got saddled with a bratty teenager. How I'm cramping your style."

Dean was taken aback. He didn't answer right away, searching her face, hoping she didn't really believe what she was saying.

"Is that what you think?" He finally asked.

"That's what I know, Dean." She answered, wiping away the tears. "You and Sam had a good thing going. Hunting. Drinking. Women." He raised his eyebrows and she continued. "Now that's all shot to shit because of me."

Dean just looked at her, his expression turning from dubious to outraged. "That's why you didn't come to me about McWhorter? You thought I would be annoyed. That I'd think you were a nuisance."

MJ stared at the ground, avoiding Dean's angry stare.

"Look at me." Dean ordered. When she didn't meet Dean's eye, he took hold of her chin, jerking it up. "Look at me!" MJ met his eye reluctantly, her cheeks burning red.

"I may not have planned on having you along for the ride and I definitely wouldn't have chosen this life for you. But now that you're with us, I wouldn't have it any other way. You're not going anywhere as long as I have a say in it." He paused, taking a deep breath. "_I'm_ not going anywhere. You can trust me."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: Thanks to all my readers. I still own nothing. Enjoy!**

Dean guided MJ back to the car, Sam catching up with them. A look from Dean told him not to ask any questions as they all got into the car, the only sound MJ's occasional sniffle. They were barely on the road before her crying quieted and she dozed off.

They rode in silence, Sam sneaking looks at Dean. A couple times he opened his mouth, only to close it quickly.

"Spit it out already, Sam." Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road.

Sam turned to him, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about the whole...McWhorter thing. You were right. I should've come to you right away."

"Damn straight you should have."

"She begged me not to, Dean. And I know I should've told you anyway, but I just-" Sam paused, turning away from Dean, looking out his window.

"What?"

"I can't say no to her, Dean. I feel guilty about how she lived and I just give in, to anything she wants."

"I see. You talk the talk, but when it comes down to it, you can't practice what you preach."

Sam didn't disagree. Dean looked over at his brother, very nearly grinning in amusement.

Sam shook his head. "She got a raw deal, man. She's been through more than we could even begin to imagine." he said.

Any trace of humor on Dean's face vanished in an instant. "What are you talking about?"

"The nightmares." Sam looked over the seat at MJ, curled up on the backseat, sound asleep. "Somebody really hurt her, Dean." He said, no more than a whisper.

Dean's stomach dropped. What Sam was saying was true. He had known that for a while, but had tried like hell not to think about it. Sometimes MJ acted so...normal, it was easy to pretend there wasn't something there. Something horrifying, hidden beneath the surface.

"I get it, Sammy." Dean finally answered. "I do." He turned to Sam. "But if you ever keep something like that from me again, I will lay you flat."

"Fair enough." Sam knew this was as much as Dean would say on the subject. He seemed to be forgiven. But he was no fool. He knew there was still plenty of shit that this case brought up between them that was far from resolved. _One thing at a time_, he thought.

They drove to a motel west of Dayton. Sam waited in the car with a still sleeping MJ while Dean ran in to get a room. Sam popped the trunk and grabbed their bags as Dean came back out. Dean opened the back door and reached in for MJ.

Sam slammed the trunk. "Dean, your stitches. Let me get her."

"She's light as a feather, man. Besides, I've had her over my shoulder once already today. It's fine." Dean answered, lifting her easily and cradling her as he walked toward the motel room. Despite his comments, Dean did notice that MJ was looking much more healthy these days. She had put on a little weight since he picked her up six months ago. She had been far too thin when he first got her and it angered him to think that she had been struggling to feed herself while her mother was off doing God knows what. He felt a twinge of pride and satisfaction that he had been able to at least do _something _right by her. Even if it was as simple as keeping her fed.

Once inside, Dean laid her down on the bed farthest from the door and removed her shoes and jacket. Sam retrieved his laptop and set to work at the small table. MJ groaned and stirred, but didn't wake. Dean reached down and brushed the strands of auburn hair away from her face.

"I hope she's not sick tonight." He murmured.

"Dude, she only had three. She'll be fine." Sam said, not looking up.

"She had three in twenty minutes, on an empty stomach and she's a hundred pounds, soaking wet." Dean said looking over his shoulder at his brother. "Plus, I'd like to think she doesn't have any experience with drinking." Dean looked back down at MJ, a frown on his face. "Although after watching her down a shot like a champ, I don't know if that's true."

"Dean." Sam said urgently, staring wide-eyed at the computer screen.

"What is it?" Dean asked, making his way toward Sam. He looked over Sam's shoulder.

"It's the arrest logs for Tupper Lake Police Department. It looks like they picked up McWhorter this morning. Doesn't say much, but look at all the aliases. He must've had ten idfferent ID's on him."

"Aggravated Identity Fraud, Criminal Possession of a Weapon in the fourth degree." Dean read. "What do you think they did with him?"

Sam picked up his cell phone and called the police agency. After a short conversation he hung up, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Well they couldn't wait to fill Detective Sam Bennett in on their dangerous capture. I swear, we gave them more excitement than they've seen in a decade."

"Out with it, Sam. What's the story?" Dean needed to hear that the bastard got what was coming to him.

"Apparently McWhorter, whose real name is Nolan Parsons, has warrants in Canada. A lot of them. The weapons and identity charges are only misdemeanors if you're a United States citizen. Unfortunately for Nolan, he's not a citizen. And he's a fugitve."

"Meaning?" Dean demanded, losing patience.

"Meaning, McWhorter's fucked. He's being detained until he can be extradited back to Canada and tried for outstanding charges in British Columbia."

"What kind of charges?"

"Unlawfully Dealing with a Minor, Aggravated Sexual Assault, Statutory Rape." Sam read off the slip of paper he had scribbled on. He looked up at Dean.

"He is one sick bastard." Dean said, shaking his head, trying hard not to envision what McWhorter would have done to MJ if he hadn't gotten free in time. He looked over at his sister's sleeping form. "He played us for all that time, messing with MJ." He turned back to Sam. "What kind of a person does that?" Dean didn't wait for a response. "I'll tell you what kind, an evil one."

Sam made no response, keeping his gaze on the computer screen, but his expression betraying that he had definitely heard Dean. Dean tried to read his brother's face. He looked...unconvinced?

"What, you disagree?" Dean asked incredulously.

"Of course not, Dean. The guy's messed up for sure."

"Messed up?" Dean asked, his voice getting louder. "Messed up is what those people at Mount Hope are. Messed up implies he didn't have a choice."

"I don't know, Dean," Sam said quietly, finally meeting his brother's eye. "Look at what he went through. That kind of thing can break a person."

"So he gets a pass?" Dean shouted.

"Shh! You'll wake the kid." Sam admonished.

Dean strode quickly to the door and pulled it open. He stood there, giving Sam a meaningful look.

Sam hesitated, but knew Dean wasn't going to let this go. _Oh, well. It had to be sometime, why not now? _Sam thought as he headed outside. Dean followed, pulling the door closed behind him.

"You'd better start talking, Sammy." Dean stood facing his brother, his fists clenched at his sides. "You've been weird about this case right from the start, now what's going on?"

"Look, Dean, we aren't going to see eye to eye about any of this. Do we have to keep arguing about it?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I think we do. 'Cause right now you're really starting to piss me off. It's sounding like you feel bad for that degenerate low life who tried to rape our sister."

"Dean, I wanted to kill the guy as bad as you did."

"Could've fooled me." Dean interrupted.

"All I'm saying is maybe he's not so different from Joshua Morrison. He obsessed over getting revenge his entire life. That kind of thing, it eats away at a person. Turns them into a machine. A monster who'd do anything to kill whoever or whatever was responsible for ruining his life." Sam looked at Dean, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

Dean considered his brother carefully. They were no strangers to revenge. Their father had shaped their entire lives around justice for their mother. And now Sam was on the same path. Sam didn't want to see McWhorter as a monster, because he could relate to the guy. And Dean could tell that scared his brother shitless.

"Revenge is one thing, Sam, but torturing an innocent girl to get it?" Dean's fists relaxed as he felt a pang of sadness for his brother. He knew Sam was obsessed with finding the thing that killed their mother and Jess. He also knew his brother was undeniably _good_. "You're nothing like him, Sam. You never could be." Dean took a step closer to Sam and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I mean it. Nobody knows you like I do and you're just not capable of hurting the innocent."

Sam looked unconvinced, but nodded anyway. Dean removed his hand from Sam's shoulder and cleared his throat, taking a step back. "But that's not all of it. You were off right from the jump. Even before McWhorter came along."

Sam didn't answer for a long time, pacing around on the sidewalk in front of their room.

"Out with it." Dean demanded.

"This whole case, Dean, it just reminded me of how pissed off I am at Dad and obviously I can't bring that up to you-"

Dean put his hand up. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." _That came out of left field_, he thought. "What are you talking about?"

"He's abandoned us Dean! We've asked him for help how many times over the last six months? And he hasn't even called us back. And what about MJ? If you hadn't been there to take care of her, where would she be? He doesn't care. He's no better than those people who sent their children off to Mount Hope and had them shut away. Out of sight, out of mind."

Dean's sympathy for his brother was slowly giving way to the familiar irritation that came with Sam disrespecting their father. "I'm sure he has a good reason for not communicating with us, Sam. This is Dad we're talking about-"

"Exactly!" Sam yelled. "Dad, who would leave us alone for weeks at a time to go on a hunt. Dad, who would yank us from school after school and drive us halfway across the country if he thought he had a lead on the thing that killed Mom. Dad, who made me feel like a traitor for going away to college." Sam finished, his face a deep crimson, and took a shaky breath. "It's never been about us."

Dean took a step toward Sam, his eyes betraying his fury. The flush of his cheeks matching Sam's.

"This doesn't have anything to do with MJ, does it? This is about you being angry at Dad for not wanting you to go to college."

"It's not that he didn't want me to go. It's that he made me _choose_, Dean. He couldn't be proud of me and just let me go. He made me feel guilty about going." Sam paused, sitting down on a bench, looking down at his feet. "I don't know, reading about all those patients whose parents just...sent them away. It brought all that crap up again." Sam looked up at his brother. "I want to find him, Dean, I do. But I know what it's going to be when we do. He meant it when he told me not to come back."

Dean shook his head, vigorously. "He didn't. He was just mad. He'll be happy to see you."

Sam opened his mouth to argue when a shrill scream made them both freeze. It had come from their room.

"MJ!" Dean yelled closing the distance between himself and the room in half a second. He threw open the door, Sam on his heels, and flipped the light on. Panic struck when he saw her bed empty, the sheets and blankets strewn about. Then he heard the soft whimpering. He made his way around the bed and found her huddled in the corner, in the small space between the bed and the wall, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wide, her face frozen in an alarmed expression. There were tears welling up in her eyes and sweat had matted her hair to her forehead. Her entire body was shaking violently.

Dean crouched down in front of her, grabbing hold of her face between his hands.

"Hey, hey. MJ?" Her vacant stare did not sit well with Dean. "Are you awake, MJ?" He asked, gently tapping her face.

Slowly, MJ focused her gaze on him. She took a deep breath.

"It was just a dream. He's not here." She said, relief plain on her face. "He's not here." She repeated.

Dean pulled her toward him, cradling her against his chest. "No, sweetheart, he's not here. He'll never bother you again, I promise." Dean pulled back, brushing the hair away from her face. "Come on, let's get you back in bed."

Dean helped her up and back into bed. He rearranged the toussled covers and laid down next to her. He turned to Sam who had been standing at the foot of the bed, marveling at how natural it seemed to be for Dean to drop everything and take care of their sister. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. After all, Dean had practically raised him.

"Hey, Sammy, could you get the light?" Dean asked.

Sam obliged before grabbing his bag and walking toward them.

"I'm gonna grab a shower." He said, walking to MJ's side of the bed. "You okay?" He asked leaning over her.

She nodded, giving him a weak smile. Sam leaned further, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Goodnight, kiddo."

MJ turned onto her side, her back to Dean. He noticed that while the violent shaking had passed, the occassional tremor passed over her. Dean moved closer to her and placed a hand on her arm. "Come here." He said pulling her closer.

MJ scooted closer to Dean, resting her head on his chest. Dean wrapped one arm around her shoulders. MJ felt instantly comforted, the tremors subsided quickly, her fear melting away.

Dean closed his eyes, listening to MJ's steady breathing, knowing she was nearly asleep.

"I'm sorry about before. At the restaurant. It was stupid." She said suddenly.

"No worries, kid. But no more drinking." He said quietly. "I'm sorry I yelled at you this morning, in the car."

"S'okay." MJ mumbled.

"Dean?" She asked after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"What you said this morning, about me not trusting you..."

"Yeah?" He prompted.

"I do trust you, just not as much as I wish I could. Not completely. I can't."

"It's okay, I get it."

"But for what it's worth, I trust you more than anyone else on the face of the earth." She turned her head to look up at his face. She smiled slightly. "That's gotta count for something, right?"

Dean simply tightened his arm around her in response.

**Please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry this took so long. I like to get two chapeters a week up, but it just didn't happen this week. This one is a little shorter than usual, but I will be updating this week end. Thank you so much for all the reviews. I still own nothing. Enjoy!**

MJ woke early the next morning, still entwined in Dean's arms. She was glad he was still sleeping, knew things would be kind of awkward between them this morning. There was something about the harsh light of day that made things seem strange and uncomfortable. She knew part of the reason she had confessed as much as she did was the alcohol. She wasn't comfortable divulging her feelings to anyone, especially Dean, who squirmed at the sight of a tear. She didn't regret confronting him or later on, telling him that she wanted to trust him, but that didn't mean she was planning to bring it up again. Ever again. She knew without a doubt Dean would be more than pleased to pretend it never happened.

She wiggled herself free from Dean's grasp and grabbed her bag, heading to the bathroom to shower. She noticed Sam was not in his bed, and figured he had gone out for coffee. Man, did he ever sleep?

When MJ reappeared in the room half an hour later, Sam was back and he and Dean stopped talking abruptly when she emerged from the steamy bathroom.

"Morning." She said, curious about their conversation.

Sam smiled back at her. "Morning, Kid. Coffee?" he asked, holding the cup out to her.

She grinned taking it. "You have to ask?"

Dean was retrieving his knife from beneath the pillow. "Let's get breakfast." It wasn't a question.

"Dean, what about the two doughnuts you just inhaled?" Sam asked, and at MJ's raised eyebrows, added "Hey, one was supposed to be for you, but I couldn't stop him without losing a hand."

MJ crossed her arms. "Guess you're buying, Dean." She said heading to the door.

"What else is new?" Dean asked jokingly, following her out.

MJ breathed a sigh of relief as she headed toward the Impala. Things were blissfully back to normal between the three of them. _Well, normal for us_, she thought, with a grin on her face.

* * *

><p>"So that's two specials and a sausage, cheese and onion omelette, side of hashbrowns, bacon and pancakes. Is that everything?" the waitress asked, grinning at Dean.<p>

"You better add a side of gravy to mine." Dean said with a wink. The waitress shook her head with a smile as she gathered up their menus and walked away.

"Ew." MJ said, adding sugar to her coffee. "Just order one of everything, Dean."

He shrugged, scanning the restaurant. "I'm hungry."

Sam returned to the table with the morning paper tucked under his arm. He slid into the booth next to MJ.

"I ordered for you, Sammy."

Sam smiled at her. "Thanks, Kid." He said before unfolding the paper and browsing the front page.

MJ turned back toward Dean, knowing Sammy would soon be too absorbed in the crappy small town paper to have a conversation. "So. Where to next?" She asked, sipping her coffee.

"I don't know yet, but I'll tell you one thing," he pointed a finger at her, "You need to get going on your school work. This home schooling thing only works if you actually crack a book from time to time. Jenna's gonna be checking up on it, so you need to get caught up."

"Okay, I get it. But we can still find a hunt. I can multi-task ya know."

"Oh, multi-tasking? Is that what we call it? Ganking demons and then writing a book report on Huckleberry Finn?"

"I'll fit it in, Dean."

"Starting..." Dean prompted.

"Starting today. As soon as we get on the road." MJ agreed. She didn't mind doing school work, really. It was just kind of...dull. She supposed most "normal" things would seem dull when you compared them to hunting. Right now, though, she would take any distration that came her way. Anything to keep her mind off of what happened in Tupper Lake.

Their breakfasts arrived, effectively haulting Dean and MJ's conversation.

They ate in silence for a few moments, Sam pulling out his laptop, a curious expression on his face.

"Hey, guys, listen to this." he said referring back to the paper. "Two days ago, a student at Valley View High School was found unconscious in the locker rooms. His hands had been cut off at the wrists."

Dean shoveled eggs into his mouth. "Guess it was a tough game of Ultimate Frisbee in phys ed that day." He said, barely coherent, around his mouth full of food, earning him scornful looks from both siblings.

"He couldn't describe his assailant," Sam continued, "saying that his hands simply fell off." Sam went back to the laptop. "This is the third incident like this at Valley View in the past two weeks. A girl collapsed in a hallway, her eyes were gouged out, but no one touched her. Another kid's tongue was ripped from his mouth, while he was sitting at his desk."

"Yum. Thanks for that, Sam." MJ said pushing her plate away.

"Uh-uh" Dean said pushing her breakfast back in front of her. "You need to eat."

"Sorry, Dean, but scrambled eggs with ketchup no longer looks appetizing for some reason."

"Just suck it up and eat. Jeez, you've seen far worse than some basic dismemberment."

"I don't typically eat my breakfast while gutting monsters, Dean. And I don't like to talk about hunting while I'm eating." She gestured toward her barely touched food. "It's called etiquette."

"Etiquette, I see. Tell me, Princess, what does Emily Post have to say about hocking a loogie on a guy after you crack him in the head with the butt of a .45?" Dean asked with a smirk.

MJ didn't answer. Her face flushed and she looked down at the table, busying herself with the jelly.

Dean was immediately sorry he said it. He was trying to be funny, and instead had brought up the one thing his sister was probably trying like hell not to dwell on. _Strong work, Asshole_, he thought, clenching his jaw. He watched her reaction, not sure if he should just let it go or apologize.

"This is only like, half an hour from here." Sam interrupted Dean's internal struggle.

"What's the town called?" MJ asked, glad for the change in topic. She appeased Dean by picking at her toast.

"Farmersville, Ohio. Population: 947."

"Sounds awesome." MJ said sarcastically.

"Yeah, but I'm thinking we should talk to the victims first. They're at Kettering Medical Center in Dayton."

"Let's do it." Dean said, cramming the remains of his toast into his mouth. "I gotta take a leak. Meet you at the car." He clapped his hands together as he stood, heading toward the bathroom.

"God, he's disgusting." MJ said, spotting Dean's cell phone lying on the table.

"I'm gonna go pay this." Sam said, heading to the register.

"Meet you outside." MJ said, smirking, as she snatched up Dean's phone.

* * *

><p>Sam and Dean, or rather Agents Plant and Page, talked to the three victims while MJ stayed in the car, getting started on her neglected school work. She wanted to join them, and used the argument that there were three victims and three of them, and they could save time by splitting up, but Dean shot that down right away saying she looked to young to pass as FBI. .<p>

They'd been inside less than an hour when Sam and Dean returned to the car.

"Okay, Bobby, if you find anything, let me know. Thanks." Dean said snapping his phone shut as he got back behind the wheel.

"Anything?" MJ asked, putting her copy of _Ordinary People_ back in her bag.

"None of them saw anything. No black smoke, no sulphur, cold spots. Nothing freaky at all." Dean said. "Well, except for their stories. I mean that one kid, 'I felt a pinch so I reached into my mouth and just pulled it out.'? What the hell is that?" Dean asked. "What makes someone's tongue just, detatch and fall out of their mouth?"

"We did get to look at their charts." Sam interrupted Dean's rambling. "In all three victims it was as if the tissue just _decayed_. Like their body parts just...rotted off. In a matter of seconds."

"Ugh. This case is freaking gross!" MJ whined.

"So now what?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "Head to Farmersville? See if the witnesses can give us anything."

Before Dean could answer, loud music filled the car.

_I loved you._

_You didn't feel the same._

_Though we're apart, you're in my heart._

_Give me one more chance to make it real._

Dean looked around, bewildered by the sappy ballad.

"Whose phone is that?" He asked, mildy disgusted.

Sam nodded toward Dean's pocket.

Dean reached into his jacket pocket as the song started over again and stared at his phone as if it were diseased.

He flipped it open, glaring at both his siblings. MJ managed not to laugh, watching Dean as if she were simply curious about the phone call. Sam on the other hand, was grinning like a fool.

"Yeah, thanks, Bobby. We'l keep you posted."

"You're so dead, Sammy." Dean said, snapping the phone shut and tossing it onto the dash.

Sam burst into laughter. "Wait a minute, I had nothing to do with that." he pointed at the phone, still grinning.

"You know Dean, it's nothing to be ashamed of. It's really a beautiful song. Heartbreaking, but beautiful." MJ teased, keeping a straight face.

Sam laughed even louder at this, much to Dean's annoyance. Dean retrieved the phone and attempted to change the ringtone while pulling out of the hospital parking lot.

"Smart ass." Dean mumbled twenty minutes later, finally resetting _Back in Black_ as his ringtone.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Thank you to brandibuckeye, Soccerchick6 and Zanita475 for reviewing Chapter 12 and thanks to all my reviewers for this story. It means so much that you took the time to give me feedback. You guys are awesome! **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, only MJ.**

**Enjoy!**

Bobby had suggested witchcraft, much to Dean's displeasure. He really hated witches. They visited the homes of all three victims, and after finding no one home, had let themselves in and scoured the places for clues as to what had cuased this, finding none at the first two houses. MJ was waiting at the car, around the corner from CJ Pratt, the third victim's home. She had searched the basement, the most unlikely place to find anything useful in her opinion, but also the least likely place to get caught, which Dean was quick to point out. Basements were boring. You didn't find a lot of dirt on people in their basements. Attics on the other hand sometimes held some skeletons. Bedrooms were where it was at as far as getitng the goods on people, but Dean just insisted on sucking the fun out of everything. She was leaning against the Impala, when her brothers finally returned.

"Well?" She asked.

"Squeaky clean." Dean asnwered.

Sam nodded. "Well, if it is witches, maybe there's some hex bags somewhere."

Dean cringed.

"Everyone was attacked at the school, maybe that's where we should look next."

"Yeah, it's notoriously easy for three strangers to just wander around a school, searching lockers and questioning students." MJ said sarcastically.

"That's helpful, MJ." Dean said.

"No, the three of us wouldn't have free access to the school, but a student would." Sam said, giving MJ a meaningful look.

Dean gave Sam a questioning look, before his expression cleared and he looked to MJ, carefully considering her.

"What?" MJ asked. After a few seconds under her brothers' scrutinizing gaze, she caught on. "Oh." MJ had nothing against school, she was just not a fan of the drama that seemed to be synonimous with high school. It was tough to get caught up in the petty cat fights and teenage angst when you were worried about making rent and keeping the creepy pedophile down the hall from getting into your room. She hadn't really had time to get too invovled with anyone or anything at school back in Chicago. But she was itching for some excitement. The busier she was, the less time she had to think about all the crap that went on recently. Se just wasn't ready to sort through all of that just yet.

Before she could comment any further, Dean turned to Sam, his arms crossed over his chest. "I don't know, Sam. Sending her to a school where people's body parts are mysteriously falling off? We won't be there to back her up."

"She'll have a cell phone and weapons. We'll be nearby all day in case there's a problem." Sam responded.

Dean looked back to MJ. "I don't know, Sammy."

"Hi, I'm still here." MJ said, waving her hands in front of her. "Do I get a say in this?"

"Yes." Sam said at the exact same time Dean said "No."

MJ glared at Dean and voiced her opinion anyway. "I'm not thrilled about going to school, but I think it's the best way to figure this out. Let's do it."

Sam smiled at her. "Okay, we need a plan before we send you in there."

"Whoa, wait a minute. This isn't a done deal. I'm still thinking about it." Dean interrupted.

"Well, don't strain yourself." MJ joked, getting into the car.

Sam opened the front door, turning to Dean. "Seriously, Dean, if you have a better idea let's hear it." Sam waited, standing beside the car, for Dean to answer.

Dean just grunted, making his way to the driver's side. Sam grinned.

* * *

><p>The school day was nearly over when Dean finally finished enrolling MJ. He had met with the Principal first and was now signing what seemed like the fiftieth form to complete the process. MJ waited in the office, sitting in one of the chairs across from the receptionist. As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, the door to the office opened and a tall kid entered, backpack slung over one shoulder, his blond hair perfectly styled. He sauntered in and stopped short on his way to the reception desk when he spotted MJ. She looked away as he turned to her, but didn't miss the way he looked her up and down like she was a shiny new toy.<p>

"Hey, Sugar Plum. You got the time?" He asked her, a wan smile plastered on his face.

"Not for you." MJ answered, not missing a beat.

His smile faltered only slightly, but he was apparently undeterred. He sat down beside her. "You got a name?" He asked.

"Yup." She answered, standing as Dean approached her.

"Ready?" Dean asked MJ, although his eyes were on the kid who was now gawking at his sister.

MJ nodded, walking toward the door.

"We'll continue this tomorrow, then?" the guy called to her as she opened the door.

MJ just kept walking. Dean turned back, fixing the kid with a death glare.

"Spencer." the Principal called from his office, as MJ pulled on Dean's sleeve to get him moving.

The kid winked at Dean and then turned toward the Principal's office.

* * *

><p>Sam met them at the motel later that afternoon, dressed once again in his FBI suit.<p>

"How did it go?" Dean asked.

In response Sam tossed down three manilla folders. The three victims' student files. Sam had met with the school principal after Dean and MJ left.

"Sweet." MJ said sitting down and reaching for one of the folders.

"Not so fast." Dean said grabbing them up. "I'm starving. Sammy, hurry up and change. We'll go over the files while we eat." Dean barked.

"O_kay_." MJ said, getting back up and rolling her eyes so only Sam could see.

Sam grinned, removing his jacket. "How was shopping for school clothes?"

"Painful and exhausting, just like I knew it would be." Dean complained. "Next time _you're_ taking her."

"Honestly, Dean. It wasn't that bad. We were in and out in under two hours." MJ said as Sam made his way into the bathroom to change. "Besides, I didn't hear you complaining while you were flirting with that sales clerk." MJ muttered.

Dean grinned. "Yeah. Candice. She was one hot blonde." he said with a far away look in his eyes.

"Her name was Corrine and she wasn't blonde."

"Was, too."

"She was a brunette. You would know that if you had looked at anything above her chest."

Dean didn't argue. He was staring off into space again, grin firmly in place, no doubt picturing Corrine's chest.

MJ scoffed. "I'm sorry I brought it up."

Sam emerged from the bathroom, gathering up the files. "Let's go." He said.

I still don't get why you needed new clothes. I jsut bought you clothes a few months ago." Dean continued as they made their way to the car.

"I told you, those were just eveyday clothes, not _school_ clothes and besides it's June and I needed summer clothes. Plus most of what you bought me before has blood and guts on it now. I can't wear jeans to school that have Wendigo embedded in them."

"Yeah, fine, just from now on order online or something. No more malls."

Sam and MJ shared a grin as they got in the car.

* * *

><p>They went to a diner down the road. As soon as they placed their order, Sam pulled out the files.<p>

"Okay, so this is the first victim, Tressa Gillette. Junior, decent grades, cheerleader. According to the principal she was popular." Sam said scanning the file and handing it off to Dean. "She said she was in the bathroom, fixing her hair when suddenly her eyes stung. She rubbed them and then found she couldn't see anything. She ran from the bathroom and fell in the hallway. You know the rest." He said not wanting to gross MJ out and cause another fight between her and Dean.

MJ looked at Tressa's picture. She was pretty. Definitely fit the cheerleader part. MJ couldn't help but notice how pretty her eyes were. _Were_ being the operative word.

"Then we have Paul Kane. Pretty much failing every subject. Technically a senior, although definitely not on track to graduate. Multiple suspensions from school and a criminal record including possession of marijuana. He was most recently suspended from school for starting a rumor that the class president gave birth to a baby in the school bathroom and threw it in a dumpster."

"Okay, so he wasn't running in the same circle as our cheerleader." MJ commented, taking the stack of discipline referrals from the file. "Pillar of society." She muttered sarcastically.

"Last but not least, CJ Pratt. Typical jock, according to the principal. Varsity letterman. He's a junior, but already had some interest from Division I schools to play college football."

"Shit." MJ didn't know this guy, but she felt bad for him. Whoever or whatever did this to him, didn't just take his hands, they took his future. Sam had told her that they were able to reattach his hands, but it would take months of physical therapy for him to be able to perform basic tasks, and he may not regain full use of them ever.

After reviewing the information on all of the victims, they discussed MJ's plans once she was inside the school.

"You'll need to search their lockers for hex bags, or anything else unusual. Do you think you can handle that?' Dean asked.

"Mm-hm." That part she could handle. Piece of cake. Picking locks, being stealth. Her kind of thing.

"Okay, and here's the list of each victim's closest friends and significant others." Sam said handing MJ the list. "You'll need to chat them up, see what they saw, what else they might know that could help us." MJ frowned, looking over the list. There were eight people total on it. "Wait, the principal gave you this? How did he know who they hung out with?"

"There's a total of two hundred students in the entire school, MJ. Everyone knows everyone's business." Sam answered.

"Yeah, which should work in our favor. Small town, small school. People talk. I guarantee someone on that list knows something about what's going on." Dean said, picking up his beer and taking a long pull.

MJ's frown deepened. It was sounding like the entire case depended on her being able to earn the trust of complete strangers, and getting them to confide in her about the freak tragedies their friends endured. She'd rather have to break into and search every inch of the principal's office than try to be all nicey nice with a bunch of kids she didn't even know.

"What?" Sam asked, noticing her anxious expression.

"How am I supposed ot get them to talk to me about this crap?" She asked waving her hand toward the files. "Should I just walk up to them and say, 'Hey, my name's MJ, so I heard your best friend's tongue fell out of his head, that sucks.'?"

Their food arrived, and Dean took a giant bite from his cheeseburger before responding to MJ.

"Well, gee, MJ, just rely on that winning personality and positive attitude to win them over." He said with a grin.

"I'm serious! This must've been traumatic for them. They're not going to want to talk about it. Especially with the new girl."

"Just do the best you can. Besides, you're great at this stuff. You can always get people to tell you stuff." Sam encouraged.

MJ shrugged. "Okay." She said, picking at her fries. "There is one bright side to having to do this." She said, smiling. "I get to wear all those new clothes."

Dean rolled his eyes, thought he couldn't help but smile. It was nice to see MJ looking excited about something, even if it was new clothes.

**Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I got on a roll this week end! Thanks to Zanita475 and Winchestergirl1994 for revieing Ch. 13. I appreciate it. There's a reference in this chapter to Dean "throwing scissors". I think most of you will get it:) Enjoy!**

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bacey!" Dean sang, inches from MJ's face, stomping his foot down on the mattress.

MJ rolled away from him with a groan. She knew she had to get up early for school, but she felt like she just went to bed.

"Five more minutes."

"Nope, c'mon." Dean insisted, ripping the covers off of her. "You don't have five minutes. Up and at 'em." With a swift motion he yanked her feet off the bed and she was forced into a sitting position.

"Jerk." She scowled up at him.

Dean just grinned down at her. "Nice hair."

"You know," she said getting up and grabbing her bag. "It would be a lot easier to get up in the morning if you weren't snoring in my ear, keeping me up all night." MJ complained, heading to the bathroom.

"I don't snore." Dean called as she slammed the bathroom door.

MJ was surprised at how nervous she was about this. She had butterflies in her stomach as she showered and dressed. She was thinking back to her run in with that tall, blond kid yesterday. It was easy to be quick witted and confident when your big brother was standing ten feet away and you knew you were getting out of there in a matter of minutes. It would be something else entirely when she was stuck in school all day, the new kid, trying to make friends with eight people from three different social circles and at the same time not get made by everyone as the freaky hunter girl.

She emerged twenty minutes later to her brothers' arguing.

"Dean, if she gets caught with it do you realize the kinds of questions that raises?" Sam yelled.

"I'd rather have to answer to some small town cops than send her in unarmed and see her get hurt." Dean argued, placing the eight inch hunting blade in MJ's new back pack. "Besides, she's smart enough to keep it hidden. She's not gonna get caught with it."

'Yes, it's very discrete, Dean." MJ said sarcastically, taking the bag from him.

"You ready?" Dean asked, grabbing his keys.

Sam shook his head, knowing he would lose this one. He turned to MJ.

"You look really nice." He said. "Good luck. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Sammy. You're not coming?" MJ asked him.

"Uh, no, I've got some stuff to do this morning."

MJ thought this was odd, but let it go. She reached up on her tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek.

MJ checked her hair in the rearview mirror as Dean pulled out of the motel parking lot.

"I need to talk to you about something." Dean said, not taking his eyes off the road.

MJ glanced over and saw that he looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, man, Dean, whatever it is can't it wait? I'm too nervous to have an awkward conversation with you right now."

Dean looked over, something like determination on his face.

"No, it can't wait. It's about the other night. The drinking. How often do you do that?"

MJ was caught off guard. That was the last thing she expected him to bring up.

"Um, never, Dean. I'm with you and Sam 24/7. You would know if I was drinking."

"I mean before Wendy- before when you were-" Dean took a deep breath. "Before you came to live with us. Was it something you did a lot?"

MJ shrugged. "I don't know, once in a while I guess."

Dean just nodded, not responding for a moment. MJ thought that might be it, and was momentarily relieved until he turned to her again.

"Did you do anything else?"

"Anything else?" MJ asked, confused.

"Drugs, MJ. Did you get into drugs?" Dean practically yelled.

"Where the hell is this coming from?"

"Just answer the question."

"No, Dean. I don't do drugs." She crossed her arms and turned toward her window. "Unless you count the ecstasy I would shoot on the week ends, but that was only to make the random hook ups with strange men less awkward." She turned to Dean with a straight face. He stared at her wide eyed, until she couldn't hold it in anymore and giggled.

"That's not funny. I'm serious here. Sam and I decided we need to know what you've...tried in your...past life."

"Oh, I see. That's what you girls were whispering about yesterday morning when I was in the bathroom. Sammy was convincing you I need rehab because I had a few shots." MJ was still smiling, but she was quickly finding herself annoyed with her brothers. Dean's concern now seemed more like suspicion. Sam staying behind this morning now made sense.

"First off,_ I_ was the one who brought it up to Sammy because I was worried about you. Second, it's not just that you had a few shots, MJ, it's how you went about it and how comfortable you seemed throwing 'em back."

MJ made no response.

"MJ, I know basically nothing about what your life was like before. I just want to understand so I can make sure you're getting what you need now." Dean concentrated on the road, not daring to make eye contact with his sister.

"I watched my mother waste away into practically nothing, and destroy her life with drugs, Dean. I don't do drugs and I never have." MJ answered. She felt the annoyance slipping away. She couldn't hold onto it when she saw nothing but worry and concern on Dean's face. "And the drinking was just stupid. I was upset, we were in a bar and the guy offered to buy me one. It's not something I plan on repeating."

"Good," was Dean's only response. They drove in silence as they neared the school.

"How'd you get stuck having this conversation with me? Why not Sammy?"

"I'm the oldest. I'm your legal guardian, it's my job." Dean answered matter of factly.

"You threw scissors, didn't you?"

"Yup."

MJ shook her head. "Everytime. When will you learn?" She asked with a smile.

Dean pulled to the curb in front of the high school. MJ took in the building and the students swarming toward it. She had noticed yesterday that it was about a quarter of the size of her old school in Chicago.

"Got everything?" Dean asked.

She nodded.

"Call my cell if you run into any problems." Dean instructed.

MJ took a deep breath and opened her door, stepping out into the humid June morning.

"See ya. Thanks." She said closing the door.

"Hey!" Dean called after her. "Do you need, like, lunch money or something?"

MJ smiled at her brother. "Sammy gave me some." She waved and continued on her way.

Dean watched her walk away, in her blue cotton sundress, thinking she should defintely be wearing a sweater, even as he cursed the balmy heat and removed his leather jacket.

* * *

><p>MJ got through her first two classes without incident. Unfortunately she also didn't have a chance to search the victims' lockers or talk to any of their friends. Her third class was a double period biology class. She decided she would leave during the break and hit a couple of the lockers, and claim to have gotten lost if she was gone too long.<p>

MJ caught a break in the bio class. It turned out that Paul Kane, the tongue guy, had been in that class. MJ was partnered with Paul's former lab partner for the time being, seeing as Paul would not be returning any time soon. The girl smiled as MJ took the seat next to her. The tall, lanky girl wore her long, jet black hair in a messy braid, and had at least ten bangles on each wrist. MJ noticed they weren't overly shiny or sparkly, but rather looked to be quite old and tarnished. She had red rimmed glasses and her floor length skirt and lace trimmed top were both black.

"Hi, I'm Sabrina." the girl said as MJ sat beside her.

"Mary Jane, but eveyone calls me-"

"MJ," Sabrina interrupted, smiling more widely. "Yeah, smart move. I'd go by the shortened version, too if I was named after a mind altering substance.

"Exactly." MJ felt immediately at ease talking to Sabrina. They chatted idly while they set up their lab, which would be taking them both periods to complete. MJ was hoping that this would make it easier to sneak away unnoticed for long enough to get some searching done.

Sabrina told her that she had moved here in September from Texas. She came to live with her aunt after her parents were killed in a car crash.

"Believe me." Sabrina was saying as she placed a drop of water on the microsope slide. "Most of the people here won't even say boo to you, but it's not because they're unfriendly. It's because they are afraid of you. I swear, anyone from anywhere beyond Columbus is a foreigner to them."

"So, what's the deal?" MJ asked, deciding it was safe to bring it up. "Some kid in my English class said that three kids were like, attacked here the past few weeks." With a little luck, Sabrina would give her what she needed and they could get on with it.

Sabrina just shrugged. "Freak accidents, I guess. You know how people like to talk, start rumors."

"Well, what are the rumors?" MJ asked, trying to sound only mildly interested.

"Nothing worth repeating." Sabrina said, adjusting the focus on the microscope. "Hey, when's your lunch?" she asked suddenly.

As it turned out they were in the same lunch period. This came as a relief to MJ since she didn't want to be the new girl, sitting alone at lunch while everyone watched her like she was on display. But she was disappointed that Sabrina wouldn't give her the dirt on the 'freak accidents'. She supposed she would have to track down the list people after all.

MJ was able to sneak away early at the end of the class, by telling the teacher she couldn't get into her locker and needed to go to the office. She had time to search Tressa Gillette and CJ Pratt's lockers, finding nothing of interest, unless you counted the hald eaten ham sandwich CJ had left behind. That certainly _looked_ like a cursed object.

She wrinkled her nose and slammed the locker shut, jumping when she noticed someone standing beside her in the otherwise deserted hallway.

"Hey, again." It was the blond kid from yesterday.

"Hi." MJ responded, her face burning. _Relax_, she thought. _He doesn't know you were doing anything shady._

He pointed behind her. "That's CJ's locker." He said simply.

_Or maybe he does._

"Oh." She said, trying to look innocently confused. "Who?"

"What were you doing in there?"

"I'm so lost. I thought this was my locker, which obviously it's not."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "How'd you get it open?" he asked, definitely suspicious.

MJ shrugged. "I guess the office gave CJ and I the same combination. That's not very safe. I mean, how many other people have the same combination? There's probably only like four total and they just rotate. No wonder people's things are always getting stolen." She was rambling now, totally mortified and also a little thrown by this guy's exquisite eyes. She hadn't noticed how blue they were yesterday. She took a deep breath. "Did you know there's a sandwich in there?" She asked, stupidly.

The guy grinned. "That's CJ for you. He always has food tucked away all over." He shook his head. "Sorry about the third degree, it's just people have been snooping around, grilling me, trying to get the goods about CJ's-" He stopped short and extended his hand. "Anyway, I'm Spencer Cole."

"Mary Jane Hanson." She said taking his hand. "MJ." She corrected herself.

"MJ." He said, grinning. "Sorry about yesterday. I was being a dick."

"Apology accepted." She said with a smile. If he was CJ's friend, she needed to get to know him.

"Let me help you find your next class, to make it up to you." He offered.

"Okay."

"So, you were pretty quick with the comebacks yesterday. You've had a lot of practice warding off pushy show offs?" He asked as they made their way down the hall.

"I have two older brothers who like to pick on me, so I learned out of necessity."

"Oh. So are they going here, too?"

"No, they're a lot older. They're my half brothers. I'm staying with them while my dad's away for a while. On business." MJ grappled around in her head, trying to figure out how to change the subject. She hated talking about herself, plus this really wasn't going to lead to any answers about the case.

"So, 'Cole' as in Principal Cole?" She asked.

"Yeah, he's my dad."

"Oh, that sucks. You must never get away with anything."

Spencer shrugged. "Small town. No one gets away with anything. For example," He gestured around at some of the people who were watching them pass, eyeing them suspiciously. "Before I get home today, my mother will already know that I walked the new girl to class."

They had stopped outside a classroom MJ assumed was her global studies class. "So much for anonymity." She said with a sigh. "Thanks."

"Be seein' ya." He said with a smile, before turning and walking away.

MJ hoped he meant it, and not just so she could talk to him about the case.

**Please review! Thoughts on Spencer?**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Hey, everyone! Thanks to Brandibuckeye, Zanita475 and Soccerchick6 for reviewing chapter 14. Hope you all continue to enjoy this story!**

MJ followed Sabrina through the crowded cafeteria to a table near the windows. It was empty except for one girl, sitting with her back to the rest of the room, hunched over a book, her shoulder length, dark hair blocking her face from view. She looked up when Sabrina took the seat next to her. MJ noticed she had really bad acne and wore an expression like she had just sucked on a lemon.

"Hey, Lauren. This is MJ. She just started today." Sabrina said as MJ took a seat with her lunch tray.

Lauren considered MJ carefully. MJ smiled politely, taking in the girl's sour expression. "Nice to meet you." MJ tried, still smiling at Lauren. Lauren just looked back to her book, her expression never changing.

_Alrighty, then_, MJ thought.

"So, MJ, how long are you staying in Farmersville? Is your Dad gonna be gone a long time?" Sabrina asked.

MJ picked up her milk and started shaking it. "Probably just until the end of this school year."

"That's only like, 3 more weeks. Then where will you go?"

MJ shrugged. "Wherever he finds work, I guess."

Sabrina just nodded, although she had a curious look on her face. Lauren on the other hand looked plain disgusted, as if MJ's non-conventional family personally offended her.

"Hi, guys." A tiny blonde girl said, sitting down on Lauren's other side. She smiled shyly at MJ, opening up her lunch bag.

"Carrie, this is MJ." Sabrina introduced them.

Carrie's smile widened. "Hi." She said quietly.

"Ugh. Look at them. It's almost comical." Lauren suddenly said, looking behind MJ. MJ turned to see a table of girls sitting huddled close together, somber expressions on their faces. They were all wearing cheerleading uniforms and half of them had tears in their eyes. "They're like lost sheep. No idea what to do without their fearless leader." She sneered. "No one to tell them what color eye shadow to wear, what music to download on itunes." She turned back to her book. "How will they ever get by?" She said with mock sadness.

"Come on, Lauren. It's awful. Their friend lost her eyes." Carrie said quietly, not really meeting Lauren's eye.

MJ was listening carefully, but made no comment.

"Yeah, well, if you ask me, she had it coming." Lauren said, glaring at the girls again, hatred plain in her eyes.

"Lauren, that's terrible." Sabrina said.

Lauren just srhrugged.

"No one deserves that." Carrie said. "Not even her."

Lauren let out a derisive laugh. "Listen to you. After what they did to you, you still defend them. You still hope you can be one of them someday." She accused.

"Lauren don't be mean." Sabrina said evenly.

Lauren just shrugged, going back to her book.

Carrie nibbled at her sandwich, not saying another word for the rest of lunch.

After lunch, they all left the cafeteria together and MJ waited until Lauren and Carrie had headed off to their classes to ask Sabrina about the exchange at lunch.

"Oh. Yeah. Well that girl, Tressa that got her eyes, ya know." Sabrina seemed to be struggling to find the words. "Just before spring break, she and her friends played a trick on Carrie. She's always wanted to be a cheerleader. She volunteered to help out during practices and games. You know, filling their water bottles, making sure their pom poms were...fluffy or whatever other stupid crap they could think of. They would order her around. So after months of this, they tell her they've decided she could be in one of their routines. They had her put on this ridiculous leather corset and gave her a...paddle. Ya know, like an S & M paddle. Told her it was a prop and that they would all be wearing the same thing. She was so desperate to fit in, she went along with it. She was supposed to pop out of the top of this stupid, giant volcano or something. She burst out of the top of that thing to see all of the other girls in their regular uniforms. Tresssa and the other girls just gawked at her, shocked that she actually bought it. The entire school was there and everyone was laughing at her. She didn't come to school for weeks after."

"That's horrible." MJ said, appalled by the story, and thinking that this was exactly why she hated high school so much.

"Lauren's not a bad person, she just has a hard time forgiving them. Carrie never did anything to them to deserve to be treated so badly." Sabrina said.

MJ was preoccupied for the remainder of the day. She had eaten lunch with some likely suspects for the attacks. They certainly had a motive. She wanted to talk to the cheerleaders, but couldn't work up the nerve to approach any of them. She did find the time to sneak off to search Paul Kane's locker, but came up empty handed again.

She was walking out the front doors at the end of the day, lost in her thoughts about Carrie and her public humiliation, when she literally ran into Spencer, the force of bumping into him sending the books in her arms flying down the front steps, scattering all over the sidewalk.

"Whoa! Sorry!" MJ cringed as she watched her books come to rest on the concrete. She looked up and saw Spencer grinning down at her.

"Yesterday you can't get rid of me fast enough and today you're running into me on purpose to get my attention." Spencer said, stooping down to gather up her books. "Make up your mind, would ya?"

"Thanks." MJ said, taking the stack as he handed them to her. She saw the Impala pull to the curb. "That's my ride, so I guess I'll see you tomorrow." She said walking past him.

"There's a dance this Friday night!" He called after her. She turned back, but didn't say anything. "Come with me. It'll help you get to know your classmates." He grinned.

"How long before the entire school knows you asked me?" MJ asked, biding her time. She didn't love the idea of going on a date with a guy she just met, to a high school dance, of all places. But she knew that it would be the perfect place to get some dirt on the victims and maybe a lead on what had caused the incidents.

"They already knew I wanted to."

"How? You told them?"

He shook his head. "No. They all wanted to ask you, too. I beat 'em to it." She rolled her eyes in response. He closed the distance between them, standing over her. "Come on. It's just a dance. Say yes."

MJ was hyper aware of the Impala parked at the curb, mere yards away, Dean waiting inside, no doubt watching Spencer's every move. She nodded. "Okay."

"Cool." He said backing away. "See you tomorrow."

"So what did you find out today?" Sam asked as MJ climbed in the back of the Impala.

"Well-" MJ started, but was cut off by Dean.

"What was that all about?" He asked, inclining his head in Spencer's direction, who was now sitting on the steps of the school, talking to a group of guys. "Is that the guy from the office yesterday?"

"Yeah, his name's Spencer. He knew one of the victims. CJ Pratt. I think he might know something about what happened."

"Is that why you were flirting with him?" Dean asked, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"I wasn't flirting." She defended, "I was doing my job."

Dean put the car in gear, and looked over his shoulder, pulling away from the curb. "You were flirting." He muttered.

MJ ignored him and turned to Sam. "I searched the lockers, but I didn't find anything. I did find out that the chick, Tressa, is kind of a heartless bitch." She told them the story about Carrie, and filled them in on Lauren's comments during lunch.

"Wow." Sam said shaking his head. "Okay, so Tressa did some nasty things. What about the other two victims?"

"Well we know this Paul guy isn't squeaky clean. The jock didn't have anything in his file." Dean replied.

Sam shrugged. "So whatever this is, maybe it's going after people who've done wrong. Who deserve to be punished."

"Like a vengence demon?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, if that's a real thing. It's nothing I've ever come across." Sam said. "MJ, any idea if there's a reason someone would want revenge against CJ Pratt?"

MJ shook her head. "No. But Spencer would know. I should ask him to hang out tonight, get him to talk about it. It seems like he knows something about it, but I think he'll be reluctant to tell me much."

"Hang out?" Dean practically yelled. "That's awfully convenient." Dean spat.

MJ shared a look with Sam. She had no idea what Dean was suggesting, but she knew it was nothing good.

"Dean, what the hell are you getting at?"

"You like this idiot and you're looking for an excuse to go out with him."

Sam gave his brother a sideways glance. He knew where this was coming from. Dean couldn't help but assume the worst of people, especially where MJ was concerned. He couldn't really blame him. After some of the things they had encountered, it was near impossible to put your trust in anyone other than family. But Sam couldn't help but think Dean was going about voicing his concern the wrong way.

MJ just glared at Dean for a moment. Then she ripped a piece of paper from her bag and waved it in Dean's face. He batted it away.

"See this, Dean? It's your stupid list of people I need to befriend and get information from. See who's first on the list? Spencer Cole! Guess how you get information from someone, Dean? You _talk to them_!" She leaned back in her seat, arms crossed in front of her. "You agreed to have me do this job, so let me do it."

"Yeah, I agreed to let you go to _school _and talk to people _at school_. Where there's lots of other people and, and- witnesses and...teachers around. Not going out alone with some crafty kid who just wants to get you in bed!"

"He's not gonna open up to me at school, with everyone listening and watching! You know how this works, Dean. I've gotta get him alone, get him to trust me-"

"Get him out of his pants." Dean cut in.

"Dean." Sam quietly admonished. "Knock it off." He said evenly, leveling a glare at his older brother.

MJ had no response. Dean's words stung in a way she didn't know was possible. It was one thing for Dean to assume the worst of a teenage boy, but to turn it around and question her intentions? It was like a punch to the gut. She averted her eyes to her window, fighting back tears.

Dean was instantly contrite. He hadn't meant what he said and he certainly hadn't intended to hurt MJ's feelings.

The silence that filled the car was deafening, but lasted only a moment before Sam's ringing phone cut through it.

"Yeah? Hey, Bobby."

Dean looked back at MJ through the rearview mirror. She wasn't crying, but he could tell she was fighting to keep her composure. He looked back to the road, his jaw clenched.

"Romani gypsies?" Sam asked, surprise in his voice. He listened for a moment. "No, that actually makes sense. Would there be hex bags? An altar? Okay, thanks, Bobby." Sam flipped the phone shut.

"Gypsies." He said simply to his siblings.

"Gypsies?" Dean asked, incredulously.

Sam nodded.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

They pulled into the motel parking lot a few minutes later. Sam jumped out and headed into the room, no doubt anxious to look into the gypsy theory.

"Wait a second." Dean said loudly as MJ grabbed the door handle. "Just-wait."

MJ sat, looking at Dean, waiting for him to continue.

"I was being an ass before. I didn't mean what I said." He said, his hands gripping the steering wheel tightly, eyes staring straight ahead. "You're just working the job. I get it." He finally turned to face MJ. "I just don't want to see you get hurt. Again."

MJ nodded, knowing that was as close to 'I'm sorry' as Dean was going to get. "I've only known this guy for twenty four hours, Dean. I'm gonna be careful. Give me a little credit."

"I know, I just-" he took a deep breath. "You can't let your guard down, ya know? You can't get comfortable with someone, 'cause if you relax, even for a second, that's all it takes."

MJ gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously? You're lecturing _me _about being naive? I trust no one, Dean. You're pretty much preaching to the choir."

"I just know how...convincing boys can be. They'll tell you anything you want to hear to get you naked. A few well placed compliments, and before you know what you're doing, your panties are on the floor."

"That's so poetic, Dean. They should put that on your tombstone." MJ kidded, reaching for the door handle again.

The found Sam hard at work on his laptop when they reached the motel room.

"So there's a lot of lore about the Romani people, more commonly known as gypsies. They can cast powerful curses, most often as a form of vengence or justice. Most of the stories suggest that the punishment would fit the crime. Like the 'an eye for an eye' theory."

"Like the Steven King book. The lawyer's a fat glutton, he gets cursed with losing weight until he wastes away." Dean said.

"Right. Poetic justice." Sam said, looking up. "Kind of like losing your tongue after you start a nasty rumor about someone."

"Or sitting back and watching while someone is humiliated and then getting your eyes removed from your skull." MJ said, thinking this all made perfect sense.

"The gypsies also have a lot of beliefs surrounding body parts. Finger and toe nails have to be filed because to clip them is considered taboo. Genitalia is considered unclean because it...spews...emissions." Sam finished awkwardly. "Anyway, there's lore about people losing certain body parts as punishment for lewd or inappropriate behavior. If a woman tried to entice a married man with her looks she might be cursed with hair loss or leprosy. A thief would lose his hands. You get the idea."

"So we've got a gypsy running around the school? It couldn't be a student. No way a kid is powerful enough to cast a curse that dark."

"Well, according to this, some traditional sects of Romani learn how to cast curses as young as ten years old. If someone was raised by them, they may be able to work some heavy duty curses by the time they got to high school."

"So all three victims messed with the gypsy and got jacked up?" Dean asked.

"Well, maybe not directly. Gypsies are big on vengence, but also justice in general. Whoever is doing this might just be an observer who's taking matters into their own hands when they feeel like something's not right and someone needs to be taught a lesson."

"So, it's like a superhero, defending the weak. Like Batman. A deranged, twisted Batman." MJ said, thinking about Lauren's reaction to the cheerleaders at lunch today.

There was silence for a moment while they all considered the possibilities.

"So what do you think CJ Pratt did with his hands that warranted losing them?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," MJ said, looking at Dean, "but I know someone who does."

Dean looked at her carefully, determined not to lose his cool. Sam looked back and forth between his siblings, waiting for Dean's reaction.

"Fine. Call him. You can meet him somewhere for coffee. Someplace crowded and...well lit." Dean ordered.

MJ grinned. "Thanks, Dean."

"Just remember what I said." He warned.

"Oh, yes, Dean. I'll carry your sage wisdom with me everywhere I go." She teased. "Remind me. What was that part about my underwear again?"

**Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Okay, so I wasn't thrilled with the last chapter. So here goes my attempt to get this story back where I want it to be. Happy reading!**

The diner next door to their motel was really the only eating establishment in town, so it wasn't difficult to decide where to meet Spencer for coffee. Dean insisted that he and Sam were going to eat dinner there as well, of course at the same time. He tried to insist that she change from the sundress to pants, but she flat out refused, solely on principal. If she gave in to all of his ridiculous demands, he would never learn any boundaries.

MJ had mixed feelings about Dean's overprotectiveness. Sometimes it was nice to have him looking out for her. But she also resented the fact that she was suddenly being treated like a child. She had pretty much gone her whole life taking care of herself, and her mother, for that matter. She wasn't used to restrictions and rules. She really felt like she should be treated as an equal when she was with her brothers. Hadn't she demonstrated that she was independent and didn't need a parent figure? True, it was a relief not to have to worry about where her next meal was coming from, not to have to sleep all alone with a chair propped under the door knob. She liked having her brothers around, but she didn't like them treating her like a kid.

MJ put on some make up and braided her long, auburn hair. She stepped out of the bathroom to an appraising look from Dean. She walked past him, not sparing him a glance as she grabbed her purse and cell phone. She turned when she got to the door, facing her brothers.

"By the way, I'm going to a school dance on Friday night. With Spencer." She opened the door and stepped out. "See ya." She called, pulling the door closed behind her. _There_, she thought, _Dean can get the worst of it out of his system before I get back. _

She spotted Spencer pacing in the motel parking lot, near the entrance to the diner. He was totally focused on his cell phone, his eye brows knitted together and his expression frustrated.

"Hey." She said, approaching him.

He looked up quickly at her. "Oh, hey." He said distractedly before returning his attention to his phone.

"Is everything okay?"

He quickly typed a text before stuffing his phone in his jeans pocket.

"Yeah, sorry. Just some stuff with CJ. He's not doing so good."

"Is that your friend who had the accident?" MJ asked, feigning uncertainty.

Spencer nodded, leading the way toward the restaurant. "He had surgery and things just aren't going as well as they hoped."

Most of the tables in the diner were occupied, the dinner rush in full swing. MJ followed Spencer to one of the few vacant booths toward the back, taking a seat across from him. "I'm really sorry about your friend." MJ began, intent on keeping him talking about it. "What exactly happened to him?"

Spencer considered her carefully for several moments, before a smile graced his face. "Let's talk about something else, okay?"

MJ smiled back and nodded, trying not to look disappointed.

* * *

><p>Dean immediately scanned the diner when they walked in, searching out MJ and Spencer. He had wanted to head to the diner the minute she headed out the door, but Sam had insisted they wait ten minutes before crashing her party. Dean lasted five.<p>

Dean spotted MJ sitting at a booth, her back to them. Spencer sat across from her. He was smiling, but it seemed like it was an effort for him to keep it on his face. Dean followed Sam to an open table, a decent distance from their sister, but still close enough to keep an eye on her.

They ordered dinner and the waitress brought their drinks, the entire time Dean keeping his eyes trained on Spencer, still analyzing his posture and facial expressions, all the while keeping up a continuous tirade about the evils of high school dances.

Eventually, he took a breather, and Sam seized the opportunity. "So Bobby said that it's different from witchcraft. Gypsies don't have alters or hex bags. They have to speak the curse, but if they're strong enough, just focusing their energy on that one person while saying the words is enough of a connection to get the job done." Sam explained.

"Uh-huh." Dean nodded, but his attention was still on Spencer and MJ.

Sam shook his head, giving up. "Dean, really, don't you think this is a little over the top?"

"What?" Dean asked, finally looking at his brother.

"She's fifteen. They're in high school. They're interested in each other. It's not so strange and unusual, Dean." Sam grinned. "I think you of all people get _that_ concept."

"Yeah, Sam, I get it, that's exactly the problem." He said, pointing a finger at Sam. "You know it goes from innocent to X-rated in a matter of seconds, and I'm not gonna give them the opportunity."

Sam shook his head. "She came from having no rules, Dean. No one telling her what to do. She was living on her own and had total freedom."

Sam paused as the waitress delivered their food. They ate in silence for a moment.

"You're trying to comtrol her completely, watch her around the clock." Sam continued.

"So what's your point, Sammy? I know what she came from. I saw it."

"I just think it's too much. We have to give her some freedom."

* * *

><p>"Chicago, huh? Well, this must be a total culture shock for you, then." Spencer commented between bites of his pie.<p>

"Mmm," MJ said with a shrug, "Big cities are kinda overrated."

Spencer nodded. "I know what you mean. CJ and I took a road trip to Columbus over spring break. It was fun, but I was definitely ready to come home at the end of the week. It's loud, busy and crowded all the time. I don't know how people live like that."

"It's what they're used to." MJ said, taking a sip of her coffee. She opened her mouth to continue when her phone began ringing loudly on the table.

_I don't want anybody else_

_When I think about you_

_I touch myself_

_I don't want anybody else_

_Oh no, oh no, oh no_

MJ snatched it up, her face burning crimson, fumbling it in her haste to silence it. The phone slipped from her hand and skittered across the floor. To her horror, the ringtone started over, and several patrons were staring at her, some appalled, some clearly amused.

Spencer retrieved it, as MJ sat horrorstruck, unable to move. He handed it to her, an awkward expression on his face. "That's an...interesting ringtone." He cleared his throat, holding the phone out to her.

"That," MJ responded, taking the phone from Spencer and quickly switching the ringer to vibrate, "is my idiot brother's attempt at being funny." MJ glanced at Sam and Dean. Both were bent over the table, shaking with silent laughter. She threw the phone in her purse. "So, anyway, you were saying that you and CJ took a trip to Columbus." MJ said, trying to get the focus off the mortifying situation.

Spencer nodded, a grin on his face. "Yeah. It was fun. CJ is always the life of the party, so I knew we'd have a good time." He said, a wistful expression on his face.

MJ decided it was time to step up her game. She leaned forward, placing her hand on his, where it rested on the table. "It's awful, what happened to him. Do they have any idea what caused it?' She asked, concern in her voice.

Spencer had been focused on their entwined hands, but when she finished speaking, his head shot up and he pulled his hand away from her. "What's with all the questions about CJ?" He asked, his eyes narrowed and his expression suspicious. "Why are you so interested?"

"I-" MJ sputtered, looking over to where her brothers were sitting. She didn't like the look on Spencer's face. She had a feeling she was definitely caught. She racked her brain for a logical excuse. "You just seem really upset. I'm concerned, that's all." She threw another glance in her brothers' direction, catching Dean's eye.

Spencer turned, following her gaze. His eyes grew wide when he caught sight of Sam and Dean.

"That's the FBI agent that was talking to my dad yesterday at the school." He turned back, facing her. "You're working with him." He accused, looking outraged.

"No. I mean, yes, but it's not what you think." MJ said, now panicking. If Spencer figured them out, the entire town would be on to them in a matter of hours, and a lot of them wouldn't take kindly to three nosy civilians, one of whom impersonated an FBI agent. "Please, let me explain."

Spencer stood, walking to her side of the booth, and leaning over her. His expression had gone from suspicious to furious. He pointed a finger down at her. "You broke into CJ's locker. What the hell were you looking for? All these question about him. He's not the bad guy. Somebody did this to him, and instead of finding out who, you and your partner are trying to dig up dirt on an innocent guy!"

"Spencer, listen, I'm not FBI and neither is Sam-"

"That's enough, pal." Dean was standing behind Spencer, his hand around Spencer's upper arm, pulling him back. "Let's take this outside."

Spencer turned, still livid, to face Dean, but didn't back away, standing his ground in front of MJ.

"Who the hell are you?" He spat.

"I'm her brother." Dean answered, tightening his grip on Spencer's arm and pulling him back. "And I'm gonna jack your ass if you don't back up off her." Dean's tone left no question about his willingness to follow through on his threat. Spencer allowed Dean to pull him to the front of the restaurant and outside to the parking lot, everyone in the diner staring after them as they went. Sam followed them out, MJ at his side.

Dean released his grip on Spencer once they were safely outside. MJ approached him, feeling compelled to explain herself to this guy she barely knew. He knew something was up and if she didn't make him understand, the jig was up. They would all be in trouble and even worse, more people were likely to be cursed.

Spencer turned his back to her, his arms crossed. "Spencer, please just listen -"

He turned quickly, closing the short distance between them in one stride.

"_You_ are a liar!" He yelled, pointing a finger at her. "Who are you? And if you don't tell me the truth-"

Dean planted his hand firmly on Spencer's shoulder and shoved him back. Spencer stumbled, but steadied himself as Dean took up a defensive position in front of him.

"Care to finish that sentence?" Dean asked menacingly.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Sam squeezed between them, facing Dean. "Relax." He glanced to his left, at a group of teens entering the diner. They had stopped just outside the door to watch. Sam looked back at Dean who nodded his head and took a step back. Sam turned to Spencer. "I know you're upset, but you need to take it down a notch and let us explain." Sam looked over at the group of kids again. They seemed to sense that the excitement was over and were making their way inside. "Just not here."

Spencer didn't answer, but stood watching Sam, still looking indignant. MJ watched the internal struggle play across his face. He was mad, but he also wanted answers about his friend. He seemed to know that something strange was going on and that someone, or something, had intentionally targeted CJ. In the end, either his desire to help his friend or sheer curiosity won out over the anger, and he followed the siblings to their motel room.

Sam closed the door once they were all assembled inside. Dean pulled a chair away from the table in the kitchenette and motioned for Spencer to sit. Spencer walked toward the table, but remained standing, leaning against the wall, arms crossed firmly in front of him. All eyes were on Spencer, Sam and Dean standing around the table, MJ perched on the edge of the bed. Spencer glanced at her from time to time, but mostly seemed focused on Dean, shooting him death glares.

"So you and CJ were really good friends?" Sam asked calmly, trying to ease the tension in the room.

"We _are_ good friends, he's not dead." Spencer said, clearly still irritated. "And teammates." He looked down, away from Sam. "Not that he'll be able to play ever again." he muttered.

"You said back at the diner that someone did this to him. Why do you think that?" MJ asked.

Spencer fixed her with an angry stare. "Because people's hands don't just_ fall off_ for no reason!" He shouted, stepping away from the wall and holding his own hands up in front of him.

Sam placed a hand on Spencer's chest, standing in front of him.

"Enough." He said evenly, the look he gave Spencer clearly conveying that Sam was as fed up as Dean with Spencer's lashing out at MJ. Keeping his eyes on Spencer, Sam reached down and turned one of the chairs. "Have a seat and let me finish."

Spencer's jaw was clenched and he looked like he had something to say to Sam, but he held his tongue and sat down.

Sam sat across from him at the table. Dean remained standing, impressed with Sammy for not putting up with this kid's shit.

"You're right." Sam started, his hands folded in front of him on the table. "Someone _did_ do this to CJ. Intentionally. And those other two kids."

"Why?" Spencer asked, looking relieved to be getting some answers, but also frightened to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Revenge." Sam answered simply.

MJ watched Spencer's reaction. He tried to look surprised, but wasn't quite pulling it off. "Revenge? For what?"

"You tell me." Dean said. "Because it seems like you have a pretty good idea why someone would wanna hurt CJ."

Spencer looked down at the table. The silence dragged on as the siblings eagerly awaited his response. He looked up slowly, focusing his gaze on MJ when he answered. "CJ's made a lot of enemies. He likes to...pick on...geeks. Ya know, small, dorky guys."

"And by pick on you mean beat the crap out of." Dean clarified.

Spencer just nodded.

"How many?" Sam asked.

Spencer scoffed. "More than I could count."

Sam looked down, shaking his head, before looking back at Spencer. "Okay, so who was his most recent victim, then?"

Spencer sat up straighter, fixing Sam with a disbelieving look. "Wait. What are you saying? None of those dweebs could have done this. I was in that locker room when...it happened. There was nobody else around."

"We think that someone cursed your friend and the others." Sam answered slowly.

Spencer's eyes grew wide. "Cursed? What the hell?" He looked around the room at each of them. "Who_ are_ you people?"

"We're-" Sam paused, not sure what to tell him. "Specialists. Consultants hired by the school district." Spencer's expression didn't change. "We've seen this kind of thing before. We need this information so we can keep anyone else from getting hurt."

Spencer still didn't look completely convinced. He looked down at his hands as he spoke. "The last one I know about was a couple weeks ago. We were in the locker room after gym class. This freshman, Simon something was in there changing, too. CJ was sayin' some stuff to him."

"What kind of stuff?" Dean asked.

Spencer loked up at him. "The usual." He said testily. A look from Dean made him change his tone. "He was making fun of him. The kid made a comment back and CJ went after him."

"He creamed the kid?" Sam questioned.

Spencer shook his head. "Didn't even get a punch in before this other guy, Warren, jumped in. He got CJ pretty good in the jaw, but CJ's a lot bigger, so it went south from there. CJ pummeled him. Broke his nose. Guy needed stitches."

"Revenge of the nerds, huh?" Dean said, earning himself disapproving looks from Sam and MJ.

"No, that's just it. Warren isn't a...nerd, or whatever. He's on the football team, too. And he's a good size guy, just... not as big as CJ."

"Did Simon or Warren have any connection with the other victims? Tressa or Paul?"

"I don't think so. Warren is dating a cheerleader, but she's JV, not varsity like Tressa." He made a disgusted face. "Paul is just a scumbag. I don't think even the geeks with no friends would give him the time of day."

"Warren and Simon got last names?" Dean asked.

"Warren Timmons. The other kid, I don't know." He shrugged. "Gotta be the only Simon in the school, though."

Sam stood. "Well, if you hear anything that might be of use let us know."

"Wait, that's it? You're gonna drop this crazy shit on me then kick me out?" He asked, looking from Sam to Dean and finally settling on MJ.

"What were you expecting? Your buddy acted like a dick and somebody called him on it. We're gonna try and find out who. That's that." Dean said. He was clearly annoyed with Spencer and what little patience he had was wearing thin.

"I don't know, but-what if they go after someone else?" He now looked panicked, and no one missed what he was really asking: What if they went after him?

"We're going to figure this out as quickly as we can. That's why it's so important you don't tell anyone who we really are. If you blow our cover, we're not going to be able to help anybody." Sam told him.

"In the meantime," Dean said, hand on the door knob, "I'd recommend not treating people like dirt. Should keep you safe from the vengeful gypsy." He pulled the door open and stood to the side. "Oh, and stay the hell away from my sister."

Spencer stood, but didn't move toward the open door. "CJ's not a bad guy. Really."

None of them answered. Spencer looked to MJ, who was looking back at him uncertainly.

He looked at her for a while, as if he was trying to figure out what to say to her. Finally, he walked swiftly from the room, without another word.

Dean shut the door behind him and turned to MJ. "So," He said, clapping his hands together. "I guess no dance after all." He tried to look sympathetic, but was unable to keep the satisfaction from his voice. Sam just rolled his eyes, wasting no time in pulling out his lap top to do some research on Warren and Simon.

MJ looked up at Dean. She had absolutely no desire to go to the dance now. Hell, she never really wanted to go in the first place, but she was annoyed with Dean. Spencer calling her out had driven the cell phone debacle from her mind, but looking up at Dean now, she was reminded of her utter humiliation. She stood and approached him. "Oh, no, I think I'll still go. I'm sure I can find someone else to take me." She smiled sweetly and headed into the bathroom to shower, leaving Dean stuttering stupidly behind her.

**Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Sorry for the long wait. Thanks for the reviews. Please enjoy!**

While MJ showered, Sam scoured the student files he had collected for some mention of Warren Timmons or Simon. He also looked for a connection between the three victims, something he had missed before.

"Anything?" Dean asked, flipping through one of the many books that were spread out around him on the bed. He was searching for anything that might help them identify the culprit. Some tell-tale sign of a vengeful gypsy. He was not too hopeful to begin with, so wasn't too upset when he came up empty handed.

"No." Sam answered, turning toward his brother. "You?"

"Jack squat." Dean said tossing the thick volume he had been skimming aside. "We'll just have to keep on the lookout. Have MJ keep asking questions until we narrow it down."

"Dean, what are we going to do once we figure out who it is? I mean, this isn't some monster, this is a person. A teenager."

Dean stood, stretching his sore arms. "What do you mean? We'll do what we always do. Stop them."

"You're talking about killing a kid, Dean."

"I didn't say kill, I said stop." Dean said walking toward his brother. "We'll worry about that once we know who we're dealing with, okay?"

The bathroom door opened, and MJ came out wrapped in a towel. She crossed the room, snatched up her bag, and quickly returned to the bathroom, snapping the door closed behind her.

Dean frowned at the closed door before turning back to Sam who was grinning up at him.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked, annoyed.

"Just let the dance thing go. If you don't bring it up, she won't push it. She's only doing this to get to you."

Dean opened his mouth to respond when the bathroom door opened again and MJ appeared, this time dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back in a clip.

She flopped down on the bed Dean had vacated, picking up one of the books. "So what's the game plan?" She asked, flipping through the pages. "Ew." She grimaced, taking in the illustration of a man being beheaded.

"We keep fishing. Try to flush out the gypsy by process of elimination." Dean answered, gathering up the books and stacking them on the nightstand.

"So it looks like I'm making more friends tomorrow." MJ said, sounding less than thrilled at the idea.

Dean sat on the edge of her bed. "What tipped Spencer off?" He asked. He had known MJ was caught the instant she looked over at him at the diner, panic in her eyes. He wondered exactly what was said that blew her cover.

MJ shrugged, handing the book she'd been browsing to Dean. "I came on a little strong with the questions about CJ. And then he saw you two fools and he knew something was up. He was scared to begin with, paranoid that whatever got his friend was coming after him, so his radar was already up." She looked down, picking at her finger nails.

"Hey," Dean said, seeing her saddened expression. "You did good, kid."

MJ just nodded, getting under the covers. Dean planted a kiss on her forehead and turned the bedside light off.

"Hey, Dean?" MJ called out to him as he headed toward the bathroom.

"Yeah?"

"Don't think the cell phone war is over. We are _so_ not even. You publicly humiliated me. I'll get you when you least expect it."

"It's not gonna be that easy, sweetheart. You're forgetting that I don't fight fair. And I always win." He said with a grin.

"So I guess it's on then." MJ said fluffing her pillow and rolling onto her side.

Sam chuckled to himself, his eyes on his computer screen.

"I don't know what you're laughing at, Sammy. You're fair game, too." MJ pointed out.

"Me? I didn't mess with either of your phones!"

"Yeah, but you sure enjoyed the show at the diner." MJ accused.

Sam smiled. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome." Dean joined in Sam's laughter as MJ groaned.

"Goodnight." She snapped.

* * *

><p>Spencer seemed to go out of his way to ignore MJ the next day at school. She saw him in the science hallway when she rounded the corner, heading to bio. He quickly turned about face and headed in the opposite direction. She passed him when she was entering the cafeteria and offered him a smile. He pretended to be very interested in a poster on the wall advertising the school musical. MJ felt a little bad for Spencer. After all, he had watched his best friend get mutilated and couldn't do a thing to stop it. Then to learn that curses were real and that he had witnessed the outcome of one. That could cause a person some serious stress. MJ recalled just how freaked out she had been when she learned what her father and brothers did for work. Then again, their delivery hadn't been very sensitive. Of course, when you're attacked by a vampire at twelve, and watch your brother behead it before your eyes, there's really no point in sugar coating it. The cat was sort of already out of the bag. Oh how she had desperately wanted to stuff it back in and return to her previous state of blissful ignorance…<p>

She made her way through the cafeteria, finding Sabrina, Carrie and Lauren already assembled at the same table as yesterday. When she sat down Sabrina and Carrie greeted her with smiles and Lauren with a glower.

"Hey, guys, what's up?" MJ said, offering Lauren a wide smile, which she did not return.

"Are you going to the dance with Spencer Cole?" Carrie asked without hesitation. Sabrina shot her a look that told MJ they had been discussing this before she showed up. Carrie looked apologetic, but clearly was still expecting an answer. Sabrina busied herself with peeling the label off of her Snapple, but was clearly listening intently for MJ' response.

Lauren fixed MJ with a sour look. "Well?" She demanded.

MJ shook her head. "He asked me, but I'm not going."

"You're not going with him or you're not going at all?" Lauren asked.

"I'm not going." She answered, picking at her salad. "School dances aren't really my thing." She shrugged.

No one made any responses. Carrie looked disappointed, Sabrina relieved, which MJ found odd. Lauren had gone back to her book and was clearly pretending to no longer be interested in the conversation.

"So are you guys going?"

Lauren gave a derisive snort of laughter. "Of course! We're the life of the party, can't you tell? We never miss them."

"Knock it off, Lauren." Sabrina said. She turned to MJ. "Not really our thing either."

"I'd like to go, but I don't have a date and I don't want to go alone." Carrie said quietly, shifting her book bag to the edge of the table. The bag tumbled to the floor, landing in the path of a guy who was walking past. He bent down and retrieved it, handing it to Carrie.

MJ took in the guy's appearance. He had two black eyes, which looked to be healing based on the yellow around the edges of the bruises. His nose looked crooked, like it had been broken. He had stitches above his left eyebrow. This had to be Warren.

"Thanks." Carrie said shyly, blushing like crazy.

Warren gave her a small smile and nodded before continuing on his way.

"What happened to that guy's face?" MJ asked, hoping to get some info about how he could be connected to the other two victims.

"That's Warren." Sabrina answered, leaning close to MJ and whispering. "He got in a fight with CJ Pratt a couple weeks ago. Believe it or not, he actually looks much better. You could hardly recognize him after it first happened." She said with a hint of disgust in her voice.

"Poor guy," MJ commented.

"Please." Lauren looked up from her book and fixed MJ with an incredulous look. "They were probably fighting over who got first shot at that freshman kid."

"That's not what happened." Sabrina said shortly, her face going red.

"How do you know?" Lauren asked, eyebrows raised.

Sabrina shook her head. "I don't. But Warren's not a jerk like CJ. He wouldn't do that."

"Yeah, Lauren, Warren's a nice guy. A few months ago when Paul was telling all those awful lies about Sabrina, Warren called him out on it. Told him to knock it off or-"

"Carrie." Sabrina said urgently, fixing her friend with a stern look. "Can we not talk about that, please?" It was clearly not a request, but a command.

Carrie shrugged and returned her attention to her lunch.

MJ ate her salad, trying to act normal while her stomach churned and her brain worked overtime. She was pretty sure she was eating lunch with the gypsy who was cursing her classmates.

* * *

><p>MJ sat huddled in a bathroom stall. She was supposed to be in her global studies class, but she couldn't stop thinking about Carrie's comments at lunch. She had to let Dean and Sam know what she had found out, pronto. She dialed Sam and instructed him to put her on speaker, so they wouldn't waste time relaying information to Dean.<p>

"So Paul tells some nasty stories about his lab partner, Sabrina, and then Paul loses his tongue." Sam said after MJ filled them in on what happened at lunch.

"Right," MJ answered in a whisper. "Warren defended Sabrina when Paul spread the rumors about her. CJ jacks up Warren and then CJ loses his hands."

"The cheerleader played that horrible trick on the girl's friend, she gets her eyes fried." Dean commented.

"And she just moved here in September, which explains why the attacks didn't start until this year." MJ said.

"Okay. I'll call Principal Cole, get Sabrina's information and pay the aunt a visit. See what I can find out." Sam said.

"Wait. Maybe I could talk to her first." MJ said suddenly. She wasn't sure where she was going with this, but she felt like she was ratting out a friend.

"And say what? 'Hey what's with the curses, it's so last season.'?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"I don't know, I just-" MJ sighed. "I guess you're right."

"I'm always right." Dean said. "Don't say anything to her. If she knows you're on to her you could be her next victim."

MJ made no response.

"I mean it, Kid." He said sternly. "Don't say a word to her about this."

"Okay."

"Now go back to class and act normal. Well, as normal as is possible for a freak," Dean joked.

MJ headed back to class, her stomach in knots. She knew Sabrina had to be stopped. She was hurting people, and however righteous her motives, she couldn't keep doling out justice however she saw fit. What bothered MJ was the way they seemed to be going about it. She didn't like the idea of ambushing Sabrina. Couldn't they appeal to her conscience? After all, Sabrina obviously had morals. She was only attacking those who she felt had done wrong.

At the end of the school day, MJ felt no better about the situation. She was retrieving her books from her locker when Spencer came up behind her. He said nothing, his hands stuffed in his pockets, staring at his feet.

"What's up?" MJ asked with a sigh.

"I was just uh-wondering if you guys…I mean-did you figure it out yet?"

MJ slammed her locker shut, walking toward the door. Spencer followed.

"What, so now you can talk to me?" She asked.

Spencer was on her heels as she exited the building, scanning the street for the Impala.

"I'm sorry about ignoring you, but I'm really freaking out here!" He said in a harsh whisper. "Besides, your brother did tell me to stay away from you and you _know_ he's a scary guy."

MJ stopped and turned toward him. "We think we know who it is and we're going to…take care of it tonight. You should probably just go home and stay there."

"Who is it?" Spencer asked, eyes wide.

MJ considered him carefully. "Why? You want to know who it's safe for you to be a dick to?"

Spencer took a step back. His face betraying hurt, mingling with fear and panic. "I watched my best friend get mangled. I want to know who the piece of shit is that's responsible for that."

MJ heard the unmistakable sound of the Impala approaching as she looked up at Spencer.

"Look, I can't tell you anything right now. I'm sorry. I promise I'll call you later and explain." She turned to walk away when Spencer grabbed her arm, halting her progress.

"If you know who's doing this you have to tell me!" He yelled , drawing stares from the students pouring out of the building. "I need to know."

Spencer had a firm grip on her forearm, his stare boring into her.

MJ jerked her arm away, freeing herself from his hold. "I said I will call you later." She said sternly before turning and making her way toward the Impala.

"Hey!" Spencer shouted, following behind her. He stopped short when he saw Dean. He was making his way toward MJ, but his eyes were set on Spencer and he didn't look happy.

"Let's go." MJ said when she reached Dean, placing a hand on his chest to stop his progress.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking beyond her, angry stare still set on Spencer.

"I'm fine. Let's go." She repeated.

"I'm gonna beat that shit head's bony ass." Dean threatened through gritted teeth.

"You're gonna beat his ass right here in front of the school? Oh, yeah that should help keep us under the radar." MJ said, still trying in vain to hold Dean back. "Dean, I'm fine. We're leaving."

Dean reluctantly turned and headed back to the car, MJ following behind him.

"Where's Sammy?" MJ asked as they pulled away from the curb.

"At Sabrina's house, talking to the aunt. If we're right and it is her, we're gonna nip this in the bud tonight and get the hell out of this town." Dean said, clearly still annoyed.

Neither of them saw Sabrina watching them intently as they left the school. Once they were safely gone, she approached Spencer, who was still standing, rooted to the ground, staring after the Impala until it was out of sight.


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: Hey, everyone! I know I made you wait over a week for this one, but I made it extra long to compensate! As always, I do not own Supernatural, only MJ. Enjoy and please review!**

Dean and MJ sat in the motel after picking up Sammy from Sabrina's house. Sammy was making use of the motel laundry facilities. Apparently Sabrina's aunt had multiple dogs that were very fond of slobbering all over Sam and his freshly laundered, cheap suit. Sam had filled his brother and siser in on the drive back, letting them know he hadn't really found anything unusual there. The aunt confirmed what was in Sabrina's file and what Sabrina herself had told MJ.

"Well, just because he didn't find anything doesn't mean she's not our guy…or girl." Dean said, sensing MJ's uneasiness with the situation. She was more than a little uncertain about Sabrina being their gypsy. She hated the thought of confronting her to begin with, but without solid proof MJ was positively dreading it.

Dean's cell rang and he pulled it from his pocket. MJ grinned wickedly at the look of relief on Dean's face when Bad Company played rather than some ungodly love song. It was so much more fun to play this game with Dean when he had no clue how to check what his ringtone was set to.

"Yeah?" Dean answered the phone and quickly made his way out front, closing the door behind him. "Jenna. How's it going?"

"You tell me, Dean. I haven't heard from you in a while. I assumed no news is good news, right? Then I get this fax from a high school in Ohio telling me that MJ has been enrolled as a student. That the kind of thing that maybe you'd want to let me know about?" She asked, clearly more than a little annoyed.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth in front of the motel room door. "Yeah, I meant to call you, things just got kind of crazy, you know?"

"Are you planning to stay there for long?" Jenna asked.

"Um, we're really not sure yet. Sam found a job and uh we thought MJ could go to school as long as we're here."

"What kind of work? And before you lie, I already checked and there are no nuclear power plants within a 100 mile radius of Farmersville, so I know you guys aren't working an outage." Dean sighed. That had been his reasoning for moving around so much when he first picked up MJ. He had told Jenna that he and Sam worked the month long stretches at nuclear power plants, when they shut down production to clean and do maintenance work.

"Sammy picked up this adjunct teaching gig at the local community college. It's for the summer semester so we're here at least until mid-August." _Just keep digging yourself deeper, Dean_, he thought, teeth clenched. "We figured MJ could finish out the last month of the school year here."

"Mm-hm," Jenna said, not sounding at all convinced. "I think it's time we have another face to face meeting. MJ's last day of school is next Wednesday. Could you be in Chicago by next Friday?" It was really more of a directive than a question.

"Yeah, I think we could swing that. No problem." Dean said, desperate to get back on good terms with Jenna.

"Okay. I'll see you guys at my office Friday at 1 o'clock."

"Yes, ma'am," Dean answered.

"And, Dean, you have to let me know when you make big decisions like this. Before I find out from a fax."

"You got it."

"Thanks. I'll see you Friday." She disconnected, but Dean didn't lower the phone from his ear. He stood there a moment, playing their short conversation over in his head. What if he'd hurt his chances of keeping MJ? He hadn't even thought about calling Jenna when they enrolled MJ in school. Man that woman didn't miss a trick.

"What's up?" Sam asked coming up behind Dean, damp suit folded over his arm.

Dean snapped the phone shut. "That was Jenna. She's pissed that I didn't let her know that I enrolled MJ in school and that we're planning to stay in Farmersville for the summer."

Sam looked at his brother, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "But we're not staying for the summer."

"Well, that's what I told her." Dean said throwing his hands in the air. "I was so nervous, trying to cover and come up with a believable story I actually managed to make it worse! Now when we leave here, hopefully in the next day or two, I have to spin another bull shit tale as to why our plans changed." Dean resumed his pacing. "This chick is quick, man. I mean, we lie to people pretty much every time we open our mouths. She questions me and I just freeze up." Dean shook his head, disgusted with himself.

"Dude, calm down. I'm sure it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? She wants us in Chicago next Friday!" Dean practically shouted.

"Dean, it's probably just to check in. Besides, everything's going fine. I mean, you enrolled her in school, that's a good thing, right? I really don't think she's asking you to come to Chicago so she can take MJ away."

Dean gave Sam a long look that said he was worried about exactly that happening.

"Really, Dean. I don't think we've got anything to worry about." Sam assured him.

Dean stopped pacing, his hand on the doorknob. "Look," he turned to his brother, "Don't say anything to MJ about any of this, okay? Let's just wrap up this case and get the hell out of here." He turned the knob and pushed, meeting resistance. He gave Sam a questioning look as he put his shoulder into the door and pushed harder. The door flew open and MJ fell back, landing sprawled out on the floor. She looked up at her brothers, knowing she was busted, but not caring.

"Are we in trouble?" She asked, unable to keep the fear from creeping into her voice.

"You were eaves dropping?' Dean asked. He and Sam stood in front of the door, looking down at their sister sprawled out on the floor.

She scoffed, lifting herself up on her elbows. "You really have no concept of how loud you truly are, do you?" She asked.

Dean took a step forward and extended his hand to her. She took it and was hauled to her feet.

"Jenna just wants to see us next week. Just to check in." he said moving toward the table and packing the newly cleaned guns back in the duffel bag. "Nothing to worry about." He added, not looking up.

MJ crossed her arms, staring at her brother. "Gee, that was convincing." She said, clearly perturbed with Dean's pathetic explanation. When Dean made no response, she walked toward him. "She's pissed, isn't she?" She demanded.

"Don't worry about it." He said, swinging the now full bag over his shoulder and walking to the door. "I'm taking these to the car."

MJ sat down at the table, staring down at her hands. Dean was worried, she could tell. Whatever Jenna had said obviously had Dean thinking that Jenna was having second thoughts about naming him MJ's guardian. If that was true, then she could kiss this life goodbye. Her stomach turned at the thought of going back to a foster home. She had only spent that one night in foster care, when they found out Wendy was missing. She made it through that night by focusing on Dean's promise that he would be there the very next morning to get her. The home itself was fine. The couple that took her in was nice enough. But it wasn't home. And she knew that she simply would not survive the next three years living with strangers.

While her certainty that she could not manage living her remaining teenage years in foster care was just as strong now as it was that horrific night, her reasons for dreading it were very different. Six months ago she was dead set on being left alone. She took care of herself. Sure, she had missed her mother and worried about her, but she also had hope that she would come back. She had bode her time, and realized after the first few weeks that she could get by on her own until her mother was able to come home to her.

Now, after traveling with Dean and Sam for half a year, she couldn't imagine going back to that life, whether Wendy returned or not. Her brothers were home to her, and the thought of being forced to leave them was more than she could bear. In fact, nothing frightened her more.

She didn't even realize she was crying until a tear splashed onto her hand. She quickly wiped her eyes and looked up to see Sam watching her intently.

She stood, walking to the bed and grabbing her bag. "I should get ready. We've got work to do." She said. As she made to walk past Sam toward the bathroom he grabbed her arm gently to stop her progress.

She looked up at him. "What?"

"Listen. You aren't going back there. Dean would never let that happen. And neither would I." He said sincerely.

MJ looked down and nodded, wriggling from his grip and escaping into the bathroom. She blew out a breath, leaning back against the closed door, before the tears started coming again. She didn't even try to stop them this time.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"Okay, so what's the plan?" Dean asked, returning to the motel room. Sam was seated on the edge of the bed, flipping through Sabrina's file for the hundredth time.

Sam didn't look up. He shrugged. "You tell me," He answered shortly.

Dean gave Sam a quizzical look. "Well, the dance is tonight. We could try to confront her there."

Sam shook his head. "She's not going to the dance, Dean. MJ told us that earlier." He said, a definite note of agitation in his voice.

"What's with the attitude? Are you PMSing or something?"

Sam finally looked up, fixing his older brother with a glare. "Could you have run out of here any faster?" He asked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I was loading the car."

Sam stood, taking a step toward Dean. "You were avoiding MJ's questions. You knew she was upset and you didn't want to deal with it so you bolted." He accused.

Dean just stared back at Sam for a moment. "I told her not to worry. What else do you want me to say?" He asked, running a hand over his face in frustration. "You want me to tell her that everything is going to be fine? I can't do that, Sammy, 'cause I don't know if it is!"

"You can't just run away, Dean. You want her to trust you and talk to you. It works both ways."

Dean took a step toward Sam, jaw clenched, hands in fists at his sides. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means if you put up a wall and keep everything bottled up inside, she's going to follow suit."

"Oh, you want me to dump all my crap on her. Yeah, that won't send her running out the fucking door!" Dean shouted, letting out a humorless laugh.

"That's not what I meant. "

"Then what did you mean, Sammy?" Dean yelled, now practically toe to toe with Sam.

"You could see that she was nervous. Upset. You should have comforted her, reassured her that she isn't going anywhere."

"First of all, I've tried that shit and she still won't tell me what's going on in that head of hers! Second of all, I'm not going to make her promises I can't keep!" Dean said, jabbing a finger into Sam's chest.

Sam momentarily forgot his anger toward Dean, surprised by Dean's response. "What do you mean 'promises you can't keep'?"

"I have no idea what Jenna or the Judge or whoever gets the final say is gonna decide. I can't control that."

Sam could hear the anguish and helplessness plainly in Dean's words.

"Dean, if we went to Chicago next week and Jenna said MJ couldn't stay with us, what would you do?"

"I'd run with her." Dean answered without missing a beat.

"Is there any set of circumstances where you would allow her to be taken from us and sent to a foster home or back to Wendy?"

Dean shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed, eyes on the floor. "They'd have to kill me first." He said quietly but with conviction.

Sam took a seat on the other bed, across from Dean. "That doesn't sound like she's going anywhere to me." Sam said.

Dean looked up at his younger brother, but didn't respond.

"That's all you need to say to her, Dean." Sam gave his brother a small smile.

Dean shook his head and sighed heavily. "Man, I wish Dad were here."

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

MJ was combing her hair in front of the steamy bathroom mirror when her cell phone rang. She checked the display, but didn't recognize the number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, MJ. It's Carrie. Spencer gave me this number. I hope you don't mind."

"Carrie, hi." MJ was surprised to be hearing from the girl who had barely said two words to her since she met her. Plus, she talked to Spencer? "No, it's fine. What's up?"

"It's Sabrina." Carrie said quietly.

MJ's heart skipped. "What about her?"

"Well…" Carrie started. She seemed reluctant to continue.

"Carrie, tell me what's wrong." MJ ordered.

"She seemed really upset after school and when I asked her what was wrong she said something about you and Spencer. She really likes Spencer, you know. She has for, like, ever. But she was really mad at him today. She said he'd regret picking you over her. I didn't really know what she was talking about, but then I saw Spencer and he looked…panicked. I asked him for your number and he sort of told me about you and your brothers. Said I should watch my back."

"Where is Spencer now?" MJ asked urgently.

"I don't know." She paused. "Do you think there's some kind of epidemic of crazy going around?"

"Do you know if Sabrina went home?" MJ asked, ignoring Carrie's question.

"She said she was going to the dance. Something about getting to Spencer. I think she's really losing it."

"Carrie, thanks for letting me know. I gotta go."

"Wait, so it's true? You and your brothers are private investigators or something?"

"Look I can't really explain right now. I'll talk to you later. Bye." She snapped her phone shut and burst out of the bathroom. Sam and Dean looked up, taking in her wild expression. Dean stood.

"What?" He asked her, knowing something was up.

"Sabrina's going after Spencer." She said as she hurriedly rifled through her duffel bag for the one semi-formal dress she owned. "We need to get to the dance, now."

"I thought she wasn't going to be at the dance." Dean said.

MJ ran back to the bathroom. "I'll explain on the way!" She shouted, slamming the bathroom door and changing into her dress at record speed. She pulled her still damp hair up in a bun and ran back out, grabbing her strappy black sandals and putting them on while hopping out the door behind Sam and Dean.

"What's with the dress?" Dean asked as they got into the Impala. "It's not like you're actually going to dance."

"It's called blending in, Dean. I don't need to draw any more attention to myself than I already have."

"Okay, I'll find Principal Cole and clue him in. You guys look for Sabrina and keep her away from Spencer." Sam said.

When they arrived at the school, the dance was nearly half over. The gym was decorated with crepe paper and balloons, all in silver and gold. MJ took a moment to cringe at the clashing colors, wondering whose idea this had been. Dean scanned the gym. Some kids were gathered around in groups, talking and drinking punch. Others were grinding on the dance floor, earning them disapproving looks from the chaperones. The siblings split up at the gym entrance, Sam to look for Spencer's father, Dean and MJ to look for Spencer and Sabrina.

MJ followed Dean through the crowd of kids, keeping her eyes peeled for Sabrina. She spotted Warren, slow dancing with a blonde girl who she assumed was his girlfriend, and made her way toward him. She tapped him on the shoulder, earning herself an annoyed look from the girlfriend.

"Sorry." She said to the girlfriend, before turning to Warren. "Have you seen Spencer Cole? It's kind of an emergency."

Warren gave her a confused look. "You, too, huh?" He asked, almost frowning.

"Me, too, what?" MJ asked, confused.

"That little blonde girl…Carrie, she was looking for Spencer earlier." He pointed over his shoulder. I saw him by the bleachers with some of the guys from the team." He said. "But I think he took off."

"Carrie?" MJ asked, now completely baffled. "Um-okay. Thanks." She started to walk away, trying to figure out what the hell Carrie was even doing here, let alone looking for Spencer, when Warren called out to her.

"Hey." She turned back. The girl was still looking at her, but no longer looked annoyed, only curious. "I'll tell you what I told her." He leaned in closer. "You could both do better than Spencer Cole." He gave her a small smile, before turning back and wrapping his arms around his date's waist.

MJ just shook her head, continuing on her way, trying to catch up to Dean who was up ahead, scanning the swaying bodies on the other side of the dance floor. She silently berated Carrie for coming here and getting in the middle of this. It was dangerous and she could get hurt. She shouldn't be trying to play the hero.

As MJ closed in on Dean she felt a sharp pinch across her scalp at the crown of her head. "Ow!" She yelped, reaching up to adjust her clip, thinking maybe she had wound her hair too tightly into it. When she reached for the clip, though, her hand met a loose clump of hair instead. She grasped it firmly, intending to secure it back into the clip. When she pulled the hair upward to refasten it, she felt no resistance. This was when she realized that the hair was no longer attached to her head. She pulled her trembling hand in front of her face, saw the massive clump of hair in her fist, and nearly shrieked.

"Dean!" She rasped, unable to control her voice. Still clutching the bundle of hair firmly in her fist, she closed the distance to Dean and yanked desperately at the sleeve of his jacket.

He turned and took in her panicked expression. "What happened?" He shouted over the music and din of chattering voices around them.

She held up the fistful of hair for his inspection. "My hair!" She managed.

Feeling another pinch, this time at the nape of her neck, she reached up and gingerly removed the clip, and another chunk of hair along with it. She whimpered, clutching onto the hair in both her hands as Dean grabbed her shoulders and steered her out into the hallway.

"What the hell is happening?" He asked her.

"Sabrina." MJ managed. "She's jealous because of Spencer."

* * *

><p>Sam had no trouble finding the principal, but convincing him to help them was another matter.<p>

"Mr. Cole, we need to find Sabrina Foster and get her out of this building before someone else gets hurt!" Sam was now pleading with the man.

"No!" He shouted, abandoning his post at the refreshments table and stepping back toward the bleachers. He took a step closer to Sam and lowered his voice. "My son told me about you. You're a phony. I oughta have you arrested right now. Just get out of my school."

"Mr. Cole, please, the students are in danger."

"From what?" he spat, his eyes wide with anger. "The _gypsies_? You should be ashamed of yourselves, filling innocent kids' heads with nonsense! Now get out! I won't ask you again."

Sam stood his ground. "Mr. Cole, your son is going to be next if we don't stop her. Do you understand me? Sabrina is going after Spencer."

* * *

><p>MJ continued to pull handfuls of hair out of her scalp, wailing all the while. Dean tried helplessly to calm her down. She was sitting on a bench in the deserted hallway, Dean hovering over her, angry and disgusted.<p>

"It's okay. We'll find her and stop this. Okay? Just try to stay calm."

"MJ!" They both turned to see Carrie, running toward them from the darkened corridor to MJ's left. Carrie's lip was bleeding and she had the beginnings of a bruise on her right cheek. She was cradling her left wrist, holding it to her chest.

She skidded to a stop next to Dean. "Are you okay?" She asked, her eyes widening at the sight of MJ's hair lying across her lap in a heap.

"Are _you_?" Dean asked her, examining her face and torn shirt.

She waved off his concern. "I'm fine, but we have to hurry. Sabrina has Spencer in the library. He's tied up and she's going to…"

They waited for her to finish, but she couldn't seem to bring herself to finish the sentence.

MJ's stomach turned.

"Show us where!" Dean demanded, grabbing MJ and pulling her along beside him.

Carrie ran, leading them to the pitch black corridor outside the library. The doors were closed, but Dean could see a light was on toward the back of the large room. He signaled for MJ and Carrie to stay behind him, before slowly opening the door and stepping quietly inside, gun drawn. They made their way through the rows of books toward the pale light shining from the back. As they neared the back, a faint moaning met their ears. When only one shelf of books separated them from the source of the noise, Dean signaled for MJ and Carrie to stay where they were. He eased carefully around the side of the book shelf and noiselessly peaked around the edge.

Spencer, looked up at him, wide eyed and terrified, his arms and legs tied to the chair he was seated in, only able to mumble beneath the gag in his mouth. Dean scanned the small area quickly, saw no one else, and approached Spencer, ready to cut him free.

As soon as Dean worked the gag free Spencer freaked. "It's her! It's her! She tricked me into coming in here and now she's gonna cut my balls off!" He shouted.

Dean placed a hand over Spencer's mouth. "Shut it!" He ordered in a harsh whisper. "You're gonna be fine. Geeze." He removed his hand, returning to the ropes securing Spencer's arms. Spencer kept his mouth shut this time, but was searching the room around them, his head jerking from side to side; clearly afraid she was coming back any second.

"By the way, thanks for keepin' quiet about us. I think the whole freakin' town knows who we are now." Dean said sarcastically, as he pulled the ropes free from Spencer's arms and began to work on the ones binding his legs. "Where is Sabrina?" He asked.

"Sabrina?" Spencer asked, pulling the rope away from his left leg and standing up, rubbing at his wrists. "Sabrina was never here."

Dean just looked at him for a moment.

"Well, then who tied you up?" Dean asked.

"Back away from him, Dean." Carrie said, coming around the corner. Dean's heart plummeted into his stomach when he took in Carrie, her arm crushing MJ's throat, a large, silver knife poised over MJ's stomach, the tip pushed into the black fabric of her dress. MJ tried to keep her breaths shallow so the knife wouldn't puncture her skin. It was a strange scene. Despite Carrie being much smaller than MJ, the rage on her face, and the ease with which she held the knife to MJ made her seem like the most dangerous thing they'd ever encountered.

"Carrie, what are you doing?" Dean asked.

"Drop the knife." Carrie said, her eyes trained on Dean. "Now!" She pressed the tip of the knife into MJ's abdomen, piercing her skin.

MJ cried out, but bit her lip, trying to muffle it.

"Okay, just relax." Dean said, holding his hands in the air. He slowly lowered the knife to the floor at his feet.

"Kick it over here." Carrie ordered. Dean obeyed, pushing the knife with the toe of his boot, sliding it over toward Carrie.

Carrie turned to Spencer. "Get back in the chair."

Spencer just stood there a moment, staring at Carrie. Then he suddenly turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

"_Dili chin kar_." The words rolled off Carrie's tongue like a well-rehearsed song. No sooner had they left her lips than Spencer was writhing on the floor in pain, his hands grasping at the crotch of his pants, where blood was soaking his jeans, spreading rapidly over the denim. Spencer screamed out in agony.

"You don't have to do this, Carrie." Dean said, careful to keep his voice calm and even.

"No?" Carrie asked, the twisted smile on her face, making her look even more deranged. "It's justice. They had it coming, every last one of them."

"It's not for you to punish them. You can't play God."

Carrie let out a harsh laugh. "God? God does not believe in justice! God allows people to do terrible things to other people and get away with it! I'm simply restoring the balance."

"Balance?" Dean asked.

Carrie nodded. "Where I come from, people are punished for doing wrong. And the punishment fits the crime."

"Oh, yeah? Where is that?" Dean asked. He needed to keep her talking, distract her. That was the extent of his plan. He had no clue how he was going to free MJ and get her and the Idiot Stick who was bleeding on the floor away from this crazy person before she hurled another curse at them.

"We never hurt anyone. We minded our business, supported ourselves. But people didn't want us in their town. We were too different. So they burned all of our tents and wagons. Who cares if there were a few gypsies still inside? No great loss, right?" Dean saw tears swimming in her eyes. The hand holding the knife was trembling. She took a deep breath. "My mother was killed. The others, the ones who lived, they couldn't keep me because I was tainted. I had suffered a great loss, making me marked. Unclean. They sent me to this pathetic town to live with a grandmother who I had never met. I've been here for five years. For five years, I shoved it away inside. I held back while they ran amuck, with no consequences."

"And then they pulled a _Carrie_ on you and the gloves came off."

"I'm just getting started." Carrie said, her face now alight with excitement. "And I can't have you getting in the way."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Here you go! Things have been kind of crazy, but should be settling down now that summer is over. I sould be able to update more often now. Since I have come to terms with the fact that most (if not all) of my readers are much, much younger than me, I'm worried some of the references in the story may be lost on you. So FYI: Corey Hart is an 80's singer and "I Wear my Sunglasses at Night" was possibly his only hit. Thanks for reading. You're the best! Enjoy!**

Dean stepped to the side, looking over his shoulder at Spencer. He was babbling incoherently, his legs drawn up to his chest. Dean stepped to the side, hoping Carrie wouldn't notice that the movement brought him closer to her.

"Why go after him?" He asked canting his head toward Spencer, "and MJ? What are they being punished for?"

Carrie tightened her already painful grip on MJ's throat, making MJ gasp. She was scared for herself, but mostly she was worried about Spencer. If Carrie had done what MJ thought she did to him, he would bleed out within minutes. They needed to call for help now.

Carrie sneered at Dean. "Sabrina is my friend. She liked Spencer, and they didn't even give her a thought before they hooked up." Carrie inclined her head toward MJ. "This one had only been in town a day before she got her claws into Spencer. Never mind that the one person who went out of her way to befriend her had a thing for him."

"Carrie," MJ struggled to get enough air to speak. "I didn't know. And nothing happened."

Dean was eying MJ suspiciously now. MJ glared back. She knew from the look on his face that he was stuck on the "hooking up" part. She gave him a look that said, _re__ally not the time, Dean_.

"Anyway, I'm just getting started in this shithole town and I'm not going to let you ruin it." Carrie said shifting the blade to MJ's throat.

Suddenly everything seemed to be happening in fast forward. Dean saw movement behind the shelf of books to his right. He kept is eyes trained on Carrie as two Sheriff's deputies came around the corner, weapons raised. MJ elbowed Carrie, knocking the wind out of her before stomping on her foot. Carrie lost her grip on MJ and took a step back allowing MJ to free herself as the deputies shouted at Carrie to drop the knife. MJ stumbled forward trying to catch her breath. Carrie looked between MJ, Dean and the cops before a look of blind rage crossed her face and she raised the knife, her eyes on MJ. Dean threw himself at his sister, knocking them both to the floor. He landed on top of MJ and covered her head with his arms as several gunshots rang out above them.

The silence that followed the gunshots was deafening. Dean hesitated before lifting his head, knowing what he was going to see. He finally looked up, taking in the little blonde girl, lying lifeless on the floor two feet from him. Her eyes were wide open. Her face frozen in a look of shock, blood soaked her shirt and neck. Dean cursed, turning away as he lifted himself off of MJ.

"Don't look, Kid." He said to her as he helped her to her feet, forcing her face into his jacket, and leading her away from the scene. Sam and Principal Cole were kneeling over Spencer, Sam doing his best to slow the bleeding, while the older man pleaded with his son not to die. Dean walked past them, MJ in tow. He walked around the corner to a table that was out of view of the horrifying scene and led her to a chair. He knelt in front of her, taking her face in his hands.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking her over.

She nodded, not trusting her voice. She had no control over the fierce trembling or the tears that were rolling down her face.

"Don't move." Dean said, standing up and heading back around the corner. Paramedics had arrived and were loading a barely conscious Spencer onto a gurney. The deputies were milling around Carrie's body, clearly stunned and sickened by what they had been forced to do. Sam had been looking over at the lifeless girl, an anxious expression on his face.

"Is MJ okay?" He asked looking up when Dean reappeared.

"I think so." Dean said, picturing the large bare patches of scalp and her shocked expression. "How'd you find us?"

Sam swallowed, looking back down. "There was a trail of red hair leading in here from the gym." He said quietly. "I figured it out. Principal Cole called the police when he found out Spencer might be next."

"Come on." Dean said, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder and guiding him to where MJ was waiting. It was several hours before they had all been interviewed by the police. Sam continued his charade as an FBI agent. Only Spencer, his father and Carrie knew the truth. Spencer and Carrie weren't talking and Principal Cole knew he owed Spencer's life to Sam and Dean. Dean considered taking off, but the school had MJ's real name. At the time he had thought it made sense. Since she was slacking on the home schooling he thought she could use the time she was enrolled in the school to actually learn something and get credit for it. Well _he_ had learned something, alright. Fake names from now on. Not that he was _ever_ letting Sammy talk him into sending MJ to school to work a case ever again. He also knew that if they took off, there would be no witnesses to the shooting, and it wouldn't be right for those two cops' names to be dragged through the mud for shooting a teenaged girl. After all, they had saved his sister's life. He supposed he owed it to them to stick around and corroborate their story.

They were all exhausted by the time they made it back to the motel. They considered grabbing a few hours' sleep before heading out, but in the end they all agreed that they wanted to get the hell out of Farmersville as quickly as possible.

MJ went straight into the bathroom as soon as Dean unlocked the motel room door. Sam and Dean had all of the bags packed, including MJ's, before the bathroom door opened a crack.

"Dean?" MJ called through the door.

"Yeah, Kid?"

"Do you have a baseball cap I could borrow?"

Dean rummaged through his duffel, pulling out an old Royals hat his dad had given him. He handed it to MJ before she quickly snapped the door shut.

"Thanks."

MJ emerged a few minutes later. She had changed into a hoodie and jeans and was wearing the Royals hat and sunglasses.

"You ready?" Sam asked her gathering up the bags and heading to the door.

She nodded, following him.

"What's with the shades?" Dean asked bringing up the rear as they walked to the Impala.

MJ just shrugged, getting into the back seat.

They were silent as they drove out of town. MJ fell into a fitful sleep. She had a strange dream about wandering through a row of gypsy wagons and tents with Sabrina. It was pouring rain and they were looking for someone, but she couldn't figure out who. Then the rain stopped and the wagons and tents went up in flames. She turned to Sabrina, but she was gone. She heard her screaming from a distance. She ran toward the sound. Then the dream morphed and she was running down a deserted hallway of the high school. She turned the corner and four policemen in full SWAT gear closed in on her. They were screaming at her to drop her weapon. She tried to tell them she was unarmed, but her voice wouldn't work. She woke up screaming just as the shots started ringing out.

Her eyes flew open just as Dean wrenched the back door open and ducked into the back seat.

"You okay?" He asked, pulling the glasses off her face. Her eyes were red and puffy.

She looked around. Sam wasn't in the car. They were at a gas station. She hadn't even realized they'd stopped. She shook her head. "Yeah. Just a bad dream. I'm gonna head inside and use the bathroom."

Dean nodded, as he went back to check the gas pump. He scanned the nearly empty parking lot as MJ walked toward the building. Sam was already inside the gas station using the bathroom.

MJ slid her sunglasses back on as she made her way inside. She walked to the back of the store and headed into the bathroom. She removed her hat and once again assessed the damage. There was a bald patch above her left ear, and another smaller one on the right side on the crown of her head. The biggest one was at the nape of her neck. Luckily her long hair covered that spot so it wasn't so noticeable. But the others, it would take weeks for them to grow in. She was going to look like a freak for weeks. Her stomach turned. She was absolutely disgusted with herself. Carrie was dead. Spencer nearly bled to death. All those other people who had been really hurt, and she was having a pity party over hair. She pressed her fingers to her eyes as she felt the sting of more tears. She couldn't believe she had any left to cry. She took a deep breath, replaced her hat and glasses and made her way out of the bathroom. She spotted Sam, his head visible over the aisles, at the coffee station near the front door.

"Hey," he said when she approached him. "You want one?"

"Sure." She answered, grabbing some sugar packets. "I'm gonna go grab some cookies. Meet you at the checkout." MJ said as she headed down one of the aisles. The bell over the door jingled and MJ turned to see two guys in their early twenties stumble in.

"I told her 'shit, sweetheart, you knew what you were signing up for, now get on your knees!" the sandy haired one shouted as he walked toward the checkout. His dark haired, gawky friend laughed loudly, staggering behind him. "Pack of Marlboro Reds." The sandy haired man demanded, slapping his hand on the counter.

MJ selected a package of cookies, stalling in the aisle for a while before approached the cashier cautiously, standing a good distance back from the two guys. After paying for his cigarettes, the sandy-haired-guy turned around, spotting MJ and taking a step toward her. He leered at her, packing his cigarettes.

"How's it goin'?" He asked.

MJ made no response, instead looking to see what was keeping Sam.

"Who are you, Corey Hart?" The guy asked, pointing at her sunglasses. He took another step toward her, still slapping the pack of cigarettes repeatedly in his palm. He suddenly leaned in toward MJ.

"_I wear my sunglasses__ at night, so I can, so I can forget my name while you call out my name_." He sang off key.

"It's 'while you collect your claim', Tool Shed." MJ spat before she could stop herself. He just looked at her for a minute before letting out an obnoxious laugh. His gawky friend was now standing behind him, a stupid smirk on his face.

Suddenly the sandy-haired-guy reached out, pulling her glasses off her face. "Come on, let me see your eyes."

MJ backed away quickly, out of his reach.

"Hey!" Sam yelled, abandoning the coffee and quickly making his way toward them. He shoved the guy back and snatched the glasses out of his hand. "Leave her alone."

The gawky guy took a step forward so he was shoulder to shoulder with his friend. "You got a problem, guy?" He asked, eyeing Sam.

Sam shook his head. "No. Just back off so my sister and I can pay for our coffee and leave."

Sandy-haired-guy stepped toward Sam. MJ figured he must've been really drunk to instigate a guy who stood at least a foot taller than him. He put a hand on Sam's shoulder, ignoring the way Sam glared at him when he did.

"Look, I'd like to help you out, pal. I really would. But, you see, your sister over there said she needed to collect something from me, and as it turns out I'm in a giving mood. So we'll just be in the bathroom. Give us five minutes. Ten tops." He said making to walk past Sam toward MJ.

He didn't even make it one step before Sam pulled him back and shoved him, hard, making him stumble back into his friend, both of them falling to the floor in a heap. Sam advanced toward them as they tried to stand and MJ quickly moved in front of Sam, placing a hand on his chest.

"Sam, let's go." She said forcefully. Sam glared at the sandy-haired-guy, but tossed money down on the counter in front of the cashier who was looking like he wanted to say something to Sam, like 'get the hell out' but was afraid to. Sam took MJ by the arm and marched her out of the store, the pissed off look on his face enough to tip Dean off that something had happened.

"What?" Dean asked, looking up from cleaning the windshield.

"Nothing" MJ lied quickly, heading toward the Impala.

"Just some drunken assholes trying to start shit." Sam said, clearly still livid.

"Hey, Gigantor!" All three siblings turned to see the sandy-haired-guy marching toward them, his finger pointed at Sam. The gawky friend was following in his wake, but looked like he wasn't thrilled with the idea of going after Sam. "I'm gonna kick your ass!"

"Get in the car, MJ." Sam ordered, never taking his eyes off the advancing men.

MJ saw the telltale glint of silver in the man's hand and knew he had a blade.

"Sammy…" She said, pausing with her hand on the door handle.

"MJ, now!" Sam yelled. She knew he had seen the blade, too from the way he tensed.

MJ quickly slid into the front seat, watching the scene through the windshield.

Dean said nothing, but stepped forward in front of Sam and pulled his pistol out of his jacket. He raised the gun and cocked the hammer, making the sandy-haired-guy stop dead in his tracks a yard away from them, his friend running into the back of him.

"Walk away." Dean said in a steady, even voice.

They hesitated for only a second before turning and walking to their car and screeching from the parking lot.

Dean un-cocked the gun and put it back in his jacket pocket before turning to his brother. "Let's hit the road."

* * *

><p>"She's out like a light." Sam said turning in his seat to drape his jacket over a sleeping MJ. She had nodded off shortly after leaving the gas station.<p>

"Well, it was a pretty crazy night," Dean commented.

Sam was quiet for a while, watching the night pass by out his window.

"Poor girl," He finally muttered.

"She'll be okay, Sammy. She's tough." Dean said.

Sam turned toward his brother. "I meant Carrie." He said, barely a whisper. "I know she did some terrible things, but she was just a kid."

Dean had mixed feelings about that. He had seen the look in Carrie's eyes when she held that blade to MJ's throat. She was going to kill MJ, no doubt about it. Even so, to be shot to death…the image of her lifeless body was burned into Dean's memory.

"I know, Sammy." Was all Dean said.

Both were silent after that. A fine mist began to fall as they drove on, the only sound inside the car the Lynyrd Skynyrd cassette playing on low volume.

As Dean drained his coffee he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He tossed the empty coffee cup onto the floor and pulled out the phone.

"Fuck." He said in a harsh whisper when he read the display.

"Who is it?" Sam asked.

"Jenna." Dean spat. "She probably heard about the shooting." Dean took a deep breath before flipping the phone open.

"Hello?"

"Dean? Hi, it's Jenna Cullen. Sorry to call so late."

"That's okay. What's up?" Dean asked, dreading her answer.

"I just had to call and apologize about earlier. I was irritated and I took it out on you."

This caught Dean completely off guard. He had no response.

"I've been thinking about it all night. The way I left things." She continued. "I don't like to be cryptic and leave people wondering what's going to happen to them, especially when we're talking about your younger sister's placement."

"Jenna," Dean said, finding his voice, "It's 3 AM. You had to call to apologize at 3 AM?"

"Tell me you weren't lying awake worrying about what was going to happen next Friday." Jenna challenged.

Dean couldn't argue. He hadn't stopped thinking about it. Even with all the shit that had gone down since the phone call, it was there, nagging at him, the fear of that meeting. "I keep screwing up," he said finally, "And every time I do my first thought is 'Are they gonna try and take her away from me?' We're not any closer to finding my father and even though I meant what I said the day we met…I'm doing a pretty lousy job and I don't seem to be getting any better." He swallowed hard, trying to keep the panic from surfacing. "But I won't let her go without a fight." He finished, hyper aware of Sam's eyes on him.

"I'm not looking to take her away from you, Dean. I mean that." Jenna said. "I really do just need to see MJ and talk with you guys about your plans."

She sounded sincere. Dean took a moment to let her words sink in. He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. But as it turns out our plans have changed. We can meet you Monday in Chicago."

"Oh? MJ isn't finishing the school year at Valleyview?"

Dean sighed. "You're gonna find this out anyway, so I might as well tell you…" Dean filled Jenna in on the incident at the school. She seemed concerned, but to Dean's bewilderment not shocked or taken aback in the least. This really was one tough chick.

"Well, Dean, never a dull moment I see." Jenna said, sighing. "Just let me know when you get to town. We'll talk more then. Just-" She paused as if selecting her words carefully. "Don't worry. You're doing a great job. I mean it."

Dena disconnected, Jenna's reassurances lifting his spirits considerably. After all, it was her opinion that counted. He turned to see Sam staring at him, looking amused and perplexed all at once.

"What?" Dean asked, stuffing his phone back in his pocket.

"You won't say two words to me or MJ about anything, but you get on the phone with this chick and it's like _The True Confessions of Dean Winchester_. She does something to you, man." Sam finished with a smirk.

Dean shook his head. "Whatever." He mumbled. But in the gleam from the headlights of a passing car Sam caught the unmistakable red tinge on Dean's cheekbones. Dean Winchester was blushing.


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I really struggled with this chapter, but I think I'm okay with it. I was sorta stuck for a while, but I think I've got it figured out:) I'm super excited about the next few chapters! As aways, e****njoy! **

"Well we're all pulling for him, Mr. Cole. Thanks for the update." Sam said, flipping his phone closed.

Sam turned to Dean, who had just come back inside from loading the car. They had stopped at a motel around four in the morning to grab a few hours' sleep. MJ was the last one up, despite having slept in the car the night before. She was showering while Sam and Dean got ready to go.

"Looks like Spencer's going to make it." Sam told his brother. "No permanent damage."

"That's good news." Dean commented, grabbing his coffee off of the table.

Sam sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his brother who was facing away from him, washing his face in the kitchenette sink. He opened his mouth to say something and stopped, looking down at his feet and taking a deep breath.

"Hey, Sam" Dean said, splashing water on his face. "Spit it out before I beat it out of you."

"I'm not trying to be a nag here Dean, but don't you think you should talk to MJ about this meeting with Jenna. Tell her what Jenna told you last night?"

Dean turned, toweling his face dry. "Why?" Dean asked his eyes on his brother.

"Um," Sam started an incredulous look on his face, "I don't know. Maybe so she isn't freaking out about it."

Dean shook his head. "No way. I don't want her to get her hopes up. Jenna might still change her mind. We're not in the clear, here."

"Last night, you were genuinely relieved. Now you're skeptical about it? What gives?"

Dean shrugged as he walked over, sitting down on the bed opposite Sam. "I don't know, Sammy. When I was talking to her I really felt okay about things. But, how many times in our lives could we rely on strangers? Strangers who work for the government, no less." Dean shook his head. "There's no guarantees. I can't afford to trust her."

"You seemed pretty willing to put your faith in her last night." Sam said, trying and failing to hide his grin.

"Hey, Sam."

Sam looked up, managing a straight face.

"Shut it before I put my boot up your ass."

Sam put his hands up in surrender as MJ emerged from the bathroom, the faded Royals hat once again firmly in place. Dean noticed she looked a lot better than she did last night. Less pale and her eyes weren't so puffy.

"You guys wanna grab breakfast before we get on the road?" Dean asked.

"Um, you mean lunch?" MJ asked, checking her watch. "It's 11:45."

"I think there's a Cheesecake Factory down the road." Sam said.

Dean was about to protest. That would take much longer than a quick burger at a diner. Then he saw how MJ's eyes lit up. He had forgotten that was her favorite restaurant. When she was a kid, and they went to visit, Dad always brought them all to Cheesecake Factory as a special treat.

"Whatever, as long as its food. I'm starving." Dean complained heading to the door, keys in hand. Sam smiled at MJ as they followed Dean out of the motel room. Dean was always trying to play it tough, but to his siblings he was transparent. He'd do anything to make them happy.

* * *

><p>Even as MJ scanned the menu her stomach churned. She knew she should be hungry, and had been looking forward to coming here, but now that they were in the restaurant, seated in a booth, the thought of food made her nauseous. She was worried about going to Chicago. Worried that they wouldn't let her leave again with her brothers. She could tell that Dean was worried, too, which intensified her own anxiety. Dean was the king of hiding his emotions. The master of the poker face. The fact that she could tell he was nervous did not bode well with her. Although, the longer she was with him, the easier she found him to read. Maybe he wasn't that freaked out, she was just more sensitive to it. Whatever the case, she wished they could just go to Chicago right this minute and get it over with. The suspense was killing her.<p>

"You okay?" Sam asked, eyeing his sister.

"Yeah, just tired I guess." She fibbed, her attention on her menu.

Dean knew she was lying. She was so easy to read. She was clearly anxious about something. What that something was, Dean thought, was a different story. He thought of the laundry list of shit she had to deal with over the past few weeks. He would've been shocked if she wasn't upset.

"You know, Spencer's gonna be fine. Sam talked to his dad this morning."

"You did?" MJ asked, looking to Sam.

Sam nodded. "No permanent damage."

"Good." MJ said, her eyes dropping back to her menu.

Dean sighed, frustrated with MJ's lack of a response. He tried again. "That crap with Carrie…that wasn't your fault, Kid. You know that right? I mean, it sucked royally, but you weren't to blame for what happened to her."

"I know Dean." She said robotically, not even looking up.

"Hey." Dean said sternly. He waited until she looked up at him before he continued. "What's got you so worried?" He asked, his face all business, but his green eyes giving away his concern for his sister.

MJ took a deep breath. "The same thing that's got you all worked up, Dean." She answered, staring him down. She half expected him to say he didn't know what she was talking about, that he wasn't worried about anything.

And that was Dean's instinct, to lie and tell her he wasn't worried at all. To simply tell her not to worry about it. But looking at her face now, he knew he had to be honest with her and find a way to reassure her that everything would be okay. It was one thing for him to obsess over the outcome of this meeting, but he could spare her that grief.

"You listen carefully." Dean began, his voice quiet, but steady. "I am worried about this meeting, okay? I'm worried that I've screwed up one too many times and they're going to change their minds about you staying with us." MJ looked at him, her expression unreadable, drinking in every word he said. She'd been waiting for this, Dean realized. "But Jenna called late last night and promised me that was not what this meeting was about."

MJ's expression brightened ever so slightly. "Really? She said that?"

Dean nodded. "I don't know if she's telling the truth or just trying to give me a false sense of security or what, but I know one thing for sure." He leaned forward across the table, eyes locked with MJ's. "They're not taking you. They can try, but it's not gonna happen. No way. Am I worried they'll try? Yes. Am I worried they'll succeed?" He paused, taking a deep breath. "Not a chance." He growled.

MJ felt a huge weight lift from her shoulders. The twisting in her stomach lessened and, though she hadn't even registered the tightness in her chest before, she now felt her breathing become easier as that too eased.

"Hey there, folks, I'm Matt and I'll be taking care of you. Have you been here before?"

MJ was suddenly ravenous. She looked up at the waiter and smiled. "We're ready to order now." She announced. "I'll have the orange chicken and could we get some of that amazing brown bread, too?"

Matt didn't even bat an eye as he wrote down their orders. Dean did not miss the wink he tossed at MJ when he promised he'd bring the bread right over.

"So? Are we clear?" Dean asked her.

She looked up at him. "Crystal." She said a small smile on her face. It was impossible to question Dean's sincerity and MJ couldn't help but feel reassured by his promise.

The waiter returned with their drinks and bread. He jerked his head toward MJ as he set the items down in front of them. "Royals fan, huh? I like that hat, its old school. "He said with a grin. "Are you from Kansas City?"

"Actually," Dean answered for her, even though it was plain the question was only for MJ, "She borrowed the hat from me. So I guess I'm the one you should be hitting on. Although something tells me I'm not your type. But I am a more appropriate age for you." Dean said no trace of a smile on his face.

"Dean." MJ admonished quietly.

"Whoa, I was just making conversation. I'm sorry if I offended you." Matt said, turning beet red as he quickly escaped from their table.

"Nice Dean. Hope you like spit on your burger." MJ said, crossing her arms.

"What?"

"You know what."

"He was hitting on you." Dean defended. "Sammy, back me up, here."

MJ and Dean both looked to Sam, waiting for his response.

"He might've just been being friendly." Sam said, careful not to look at Dean. He reached out, picking up the bread knife and cutting a slice. "Bread?" he asked offering the loaf to Dean.

Dean gave his brother a dirty look as he snatched the bread out of Sam's hand.

* * *

><p>They stayed in Gary, Indiana for the week end, just laying low until Monday morning. Dean didn't want to stay in the city longer than necessary, and MJ was in wholehearted agreement. She didn't exactly have fond memories of Chicago.<p>

On Sunday morning, Sam took her to a hair salon at the mall. She didn't have high hopes that they'd be able to make her look presentable, but she hoped to at least make the bald patches less noticeable. She was pleasantly surprised with the results. It was by no means perfect, but the short cut definitely made the damage less obvious. After paying for the hair cut, Sam led MJ back toward the car.

"Hey, Sam?" MJ asked as they strolled along the corridors on their way to the car.

"Yeah?"

"How was she able to do it? Carrie?"

Sam didn't answer right away. He looked over at MJ, then turned straight ahead before answering.

"I think she learned some things growing up. And I think that she had a lot of anger about her life. That kind of rage can make someone really powerful if they know the basics, which she definitely did."

"Sabrina never had anything to do with it. But Carrie knew I suspected her and she used that to lure me to the school." She shook her head. "I should've known. Maybe I could've stopped her before-"

Sam stopped, grabbing MJ by the shoulders and turning her to face him. "Listen. There is nothing you could have done. None of this was your fault." MJ looked determinedly at her feet. Sam continued. "You couldn't have saved her MJ."

MJ looked up at him, tears welled in her eyes. "How do you know?"

"Because she was sick, MJ. Obsessed. And when people are that determined to do something, there's nothing anyone can do to stop them."

MJ just nodded, not really convinced.

They lolled around the rest of the day and left for Chicago Monday morning at 7 AM. Despite Dean's continued reassurances that all would be okay, MJ's stomach was in knots as they drove into the city. When Dean didn't even complain about parking the Impala in a shady open lot, manned by a greasy, toothless guy who was drooling over the Impala, MJ knew he was distracted.

The lobby of the government building was all too familiar to MJ. She had spent time here with Wendy, applying for housing assistance, or to get their heat bill paid in the dead of winter. As she sat beside her brothers in the waiting room, she noted that it smelled exactly as it always had: stagnant and depressing.

"Mary Jane?" Jenna called from the doorway. The siblings stood in unison and made their way toward the caseworker. Jenna held up her hand. "Just MJ for now. I'll call you both in shortly."

MJ hesitated, feeling Dean stiffen beside her. The last time they had been here to check in, Jenna had talked to MJ alone, so it wasn't an unusual request, but all of the anxiety of the last few days made her leery of being separated from Sam and Dean. Apparently Dean felt the same way.

"I don't think that's a good idea." Dean said quietly, eyes on Jenna.

"Dean, I just want to chat with MJ, make sure things are going okay, then you guys can join us." She placed a hand on his arm. "I need you to trust me, Dean." She waited for a response, but Dean just looked back at her, unconvinced. "Fifteen minutes, tops."

Dean reluctantly nodded and sat back down with Sam to endure the most excruciating fifteen minutes of his life.

* * *

><p>MJ sat rigid in her chair, Jenna taking a seat across the table from her. MJ watched the young woman open her notebook, smiling warmly over at MJ. She seemed completely at ease, despite MJ's obvious discomfort.<p>

"I love your haircut. When did you do it?"

"Oh," MJ's hand went automatically to the carefully hidden bald patch. "Thanks. Just yesterday, actually."

"It suits you." She said with a smile. "So, tell me what's been going on since we last talked?"

Silence. MJ didn't know where to start, for one because so much had gone on, and two, she didn't know how much to fabricate. MJ sat there, looking down at her hands, marveling at how comfortable Jenna seemed to be with the silence.

MJ looked up finally. "We visited my Uncle Bobby for a couple weeks. That was nice."

"Uncle?" Jenna asked.

MJ shook her head. "That's just what we call him. We're not really related."

"I see." Jenna scribbled something down. "Have you had any contact with your father?"

MJ's head snapped up. "Have you?" She shot back, annoyed.

"No. But I think he would call you before he calls me." Jenna said calmly.

"No, he hasn't called." MJ said.

"That must be difficult, wondering where he is, why he isn't reaching out to you."

"Am I in therapy right now?" MJ snapped.

Jenna held her hands up in surrender. "Hey, I'm not the enemy, MJ. I'm just trying to catch up with you. I only have 11 minutes before Dean comes barreling through that door and I'd like to make the most of it."

MJ considered the woman carefully. No matter how closely she looked, she couldn't find anything but concern and genuine interest in Jenna's face. She sighed. "Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize." Jenna jotted some more notes before looking back up. "So, I'll cut to the chase," she said, making MJ look up. "Tell me about Scotty McWhorter." Jenna was no longer smiling.

**Please review.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks to Brandibuckeye, Kissacazador, Soccerchick6 and Wincehsterlove94 for reviewing chapter 20. So glad you liked it. There's something in this chapter we don't see much of: Dean getting flustered around a girl:) Yes, I know, unnatural. Please enjoy!**

Chapter 21

MJ's jaw dropped as she stared at Jenna, unable to so much as look away. Her heart jumped into her throat as one question popped into her head.

_How much did she know?_

* * *

><p>Exactly fifteen minutes and thirty seconds after Jenna took MJ in Dean was at the reception desk demanding to speak to Jenna. Sam was standing behind Dean, smiling apologetically at the receptionist, who looked like she was used to hearing far worse than Dean's rant.<p>

"Sir, I'm sure she'll be out for you shortly. Please have a seat."

"Well, isn't there someone else I could speak to, like a supervisor?"

"Dean?" Jenna called from the door. Dean turned and crossed the room to Jenna without so much as a backward glance at the young woman at the desk.

"Uh, sorry. Thanks for your help." Sam said to the receptionist with a forced smile before following after Dean.

Jenna brought them both into an empty conference room and invited them to have a seat.

"Where's MJ?" Dean asked, standing beside the door.

"She's in the room next door. I'd like to talk to you both alone before she joins us. Have a seat." Jenna repeated with a smile.

Dean and Sam obeyed, taking the seats nearest the door. Jenna sat across from them.

"I just had a nice conversation with MJ. Sounds like you guys have been busy since we last met."

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. Sam and I have been working a lot. We stayed a couple weeks with a family friend. MJ seemed to really like that. And we took a vacation to the Adirondacks."

Jenna nodded. "To Tupper Lake, right?"

Dean nodded. "MJ mentioned it?" He was surprised, given what had happened there. Then again, MJ would have wanted to talk up everything they did to make it seem like things were going smoothly.

Jenna nodded. "She did, but I already knew you were there." Dean just stared at her. This was what he was waiting for. He had known in his gut that something was up since talking to Jenna the night of the dance.

Dean made no response. He thought back to that angry phone call from Jenna, that seemed like it had been a million years ago now, as he waited for her to explain. Sam sat beside Dean, still as a statue, keeping his mouth shut.

Jenna put her pen down. "Look, guys, here's the deal." She began, pulling a sheet of paper from a manila folder. She held it up. "This is a letter I got from a guy named Nolan Parsons, AKA Scotty McWhorter. He wrote to me from prison. He felt compelled to tell me all about," She held the letter up reading directly from it. "The horrible abuse and neglect that I witnessed Mary Jane suffer at the hands of her two brothers. The oldest, Dean, struck Mary Jane almost daily and called her horrible demeaning names like 'slut', 'bitch' and 'whore'. The other brother, Sam, acted very inappropriately toward Mary Jane, making comments about her body that made her very uncomfortable, and even touching her in a sexual manner." She tossed the letter down, a look of disdain on her face. "It goes on and on."

Dean was furious. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Sam's loud denial. "That never happened! That's disgusting. I would never-" Sam looked away, taking a deep breath. Dean turned to his brother, seeing the hurt and anger on his face, the effort to keep his cool evident in the rigid set of his shoulders. "I would never do anything to hurt my sister."

Dean grasped Sam's shoulder, turning back toward Jenna. "This is ridiculous-"

Jenna put her hand up, signaling for Dean to stop. "Quite frankly I don't put much stock in the angry ramblings of imprisoned felons. I just need to hear from you guys what really went on here." She stared directly at Dean, a determined expression on her face. "The truth."

Dean took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. "This guy," He said gesturing toward the letter. "We ran into him at our friend Bobby's house. He offered to help me and Sam out on this freelance private investigator case we took in Tupper Lake. He got…fresh with MJ. He came onto her." Dean modified the story, knowing that the truth would raise questions about why they didn't involve the police. "When I found out I went a little crazy and got in a fight with the guy. He pulled a knife on me." Dean lifted his shirt, revealing the stitches in his abdomen. "I overtook him and knocked him out cold. That's when we found all the guns and knives he had with him. We tipped off the police, knowing they would take care of him." Dean finished, shaking his head. "The only thing I'm guilty of here is trusting that asshole." He looked down, his heart hammering in his chest. He took a deep breath in an effort to keep his voice steady. "I wouldn't call her those names, say those things to her." He lifted his gaze toward Jenna. "Never."

Jenna picked up her pen again, quickly scribbling something down in her notebook. "Sam?" She said, not looking up. "Do you have anything to add?"

Sam was quiet for a while. Dean thought he wasn't going to say anything. Then he looked up at Jenna, speaking in a quiet voice. "Only that it wasn't Dean's fault. McWhorter put on a good act. He couldn't have known what the guy was capable of." Sam turned to his brother, giving Dean a look that said he meant every word.

"Well," Jenna said, finally looking up from her notebook. Sam and Dean turned to her. "That's pretty much what MJ told me. She was adamant that neither of you had done anything to hurt her. In fact, she told me that sometimes she thinks you're both too protective of her." She smiled again. "I can see that that's true."

"Look," Sam said, leaning forward in his seat, "We may not be perfect and God knows we've screwed up a lot in the last seven months, but we love MJ and we want what's best for her."

"I know. So do I." Jenna sighed. "So, PI work? That's what all the moving around is about? Why didn't you just tell me from the start?"

Dean chuckled nervously. "Well, ya know, most of our jobs are highly sensitive, top secret. On the down low, so to speak. We never tell people about our work." Sam cringed at his brother's idiotic response, but said nothing.

"Well, as long as you make sure MJ is not placed in harm's way during any of these jobs, we don't have a problem." She looked back and forth between Sam and Dean.

Dean realized she was waiting for their response. "Of course not." Dean assured her, thinking of no less than five times in the past seven months that MJ had been in mortal peril.

"Okay." Jenna said, getting to her feet. "I have a few more things to discuss with you, Dean. Sam, why don't you wait next door with MJ for a few minutes?"

Sam was so eager to see MJ that even curiosity about what Jenna wanted to say to Dean that couldn't be said in front of him didn't keep him from immediately following Jenna from the room. Jenna returned seconds later, closing the door behind her. This time she took Sam's vacated seat next to Dean.

She sat for a moment, playing with her pen, avoiding Dean's gaze before she finally spoke. "I feel really bad about that phone call last week. I'd like the chance to explain myself."

Dean shook his head, leaning back in his chair. "Stop." He said. Jenna still didn't look at him. "You don't have to explain. I get it. You're doing your job. How could I be upset that you're concerned about MJ?" Dean was a little surprised when he realized that he wasn't just saying what he thought she wanted to hear, that he actually believed it. She clearly cared about what became of MJ and he couldn't argue with that.

Jenna was shaking her head before Dean finished speaking. "That's not it. I mean, yes of course I'm concerned about MJ. She's a great kid. But I didn't just happen upon the fact that MJ had been enrolled in school." She finally looked up at Dean. "Last Friday, just before I called you, I heard from Lance Bartol. He's Wendy's attorney. He got a copy of that ridiculous letter, too and jumped on it. He dug up the enrollment records from Valleyview and hauled me into Court for a meeting in the Judge's chambers. Then he sprung the school records on me. He made it look like I didn't have a clue. The Judge gave me two weeks to submit a written report of my findings concerning the allegations in the letter and the general appropriateness of the current custody arrangement. So, that's why I freaked on you over the phone." She finished, shifting uncomfortably in her chair.

In their few face to face meetings and numerous phone conversations, Dean had always known Jenna to be confident and direct. He had never seen her struggle like this. Was she that unaccustomed to apologies, or was there some other reason she was suddenly so out of sorts? Dean had no time to dwell on it, he had more pressing problems.

"Wait a minute." He said, turning his chair so he was facing Jenna and leaning toward her, "Wendy hired an attorney? She's back?"

Jenna shook her head. "He was appointed by the Court. Wendy hasn't…_officially_ surfaced." She said evasively.

Dean's eyebrows shot up. "Officially? What the hell does that mean?"

Jenna scooched closer to Dean, craning her neck to look out the window pane in the closed door, checking to see if anyone was in the hallway, within hearing distance. Apparently satisfied that no one was eavesdropping, Jenna looked back at Dean. "Lance, the attorney, hinted that he has spoken to Wendy since he was assigned to her case."

Dean looked down, breathing out slowly. He had worried about this almost since the day he picked up MJ. If Wendy surfaced before Dad, how would Dean keep MJ away from her? Keep Wendy from putting MJ in harm's way, yet again? "Okay," Dean said shakily, "So she called her lawyer. What does that mean for us?"

"Nothing changes. You have temporary physical custody, Dean. Wendy would have to actually show up in Court for the Judge to even consider modifying that. And when she does show her face, there will almost certainly be criminal charges for child abandonment to be dealt with. It would likely be months before we had disposition on those charges, and then she could very well do jail time. I truly don't believe custody would be changing any time soon, even if she walked through the Courthouse door today.

Neither of them spoke for a moment while Dean absorbed this information. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"So," Dean said finally, "She's alive."

Jenna didn't miss the disappointment in Dean's tone. "It seems so."

Dean crossed his arms, and asked in a would be casual voice, "What do you think you'll put in your report?"

Jenna sat back in her chair. After a long pause she said quietly, "I'm 27 years old, Dean. I've been doing this job for over five years, which may not sound like a long time, but believe me, in this field, in five years you see more frightening, disheartening, and just plain horrifying things than anyone should have to deal with in a lifetime." She considered Dean carefully. "Something tells me you can relate." She said with half a smile. "I like to think that I'm a pretty good judge of character. I follow my gut, and when I first laid eyes on you, my gut told me that MJ would be safe with you. And in the past seven months my instincts haven't waivered." She shook her head determinedly. "I don't regret backing you up, and I intend to fight tooth and nail to keep your sister away from Wendy." It was barely more than a whisper, but there was nothing but determination on her face.

"Well," Dean said, eyes locked with Jenna's. "That makes two of us."

"I think what you're doing for your sister is amazing, Dean." She said, blush rising in her cheeks.

The two stared at each other for several moments, seemingly unaware that they were both leaning in toward one another. Then as suddenly as if she had been shocked, Jenna leaned back, cleared her throat and stood up.

"Well," She said as she began gathering up the papers, folders and her notebook. "I'm sure you're anxious to return to your brother and sister. I'll show you to them." She turned and walked to the door, Dean standing and following behind her.

"Oh," She said, hesitating with her hand on the doorknob, turning toward Dean. "I think it would be best if you don't mention what I told you to MJ. I mean, until we know for sure that Wendy's…back, I don't see any reason to make her worry any more than she already is."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, no problem. And listen, you don't know how much-I mean it means a lot-" Dean cleared his throat and tried again, "I really appreciate what you're doing for MJ and uh-" He paused, looking at his feet. It was his turn to be uncharacteristically timid and awkward, "for me." He finished.

"Well, I'll tell you what I told you the first day we met: Just don't let her down."

Dean smiled, opening the door for her. "Yes, ma'am."

**Please review.**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Hey, everyone! So, I must say I had so much fun writing the next couple chapters. Happy reading! **

**Chapter 22**

"I thought we were 100% _scr__ewed._" MJ said, holding her drink up in front of her.

Sam clinked his beer bottle with her root beer with a chuckle. "Me, too," He said before turning to his brother, "and hats off to Dean for his fine use of his stitched wound as a visual aid to further prove his story."

Dean raised his own beer with a smirk. "That's why I make the big bucks."

MJ giggled. Despite her brothers being livid over Scotty's letter, their collective mood had improved considerably since meeting with Jenna. The anxiety and tension had eased once they were certain Jenna was being honest with them and wasn't going to snatch MJ away from Dean and Sam. Dean had suggested they go out to celebrate, and to MJ's surprise, Sam had agreed. MJ had a fake ID, but to this point she had used it strictly for cases. She practically fell over when he handed it to her at the motel after dinner and told her to hurry up and change. Of course, he wasn't letting her wear a skirt to a bar, so she had reluctantly changed into jeans. He also wasn't letting her drink, the ID was strictly so she could get in, but she intended to make the most of staying sober by hustling some drunken fools out of their hard earned money. This place had pool tables and dart boards, and she had the hundred bucks she had won the last time tucked in her pocket. _Oh, where to begin?_

As MJ scanned the bar for potential suckers, a petite blonde approached their table.

"Sam?" She asked with a smile.

"Oh my God, Meg?" He said standing, leaving his siblings to give each other questioning looks behind his back. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I'm sort of living here now. For a while."

"What happened to California?" Sam asked, ignoring Dean's attempts to get his attention with a fake cough.

The girl shrugged. "Not all it was cracked up to be." She nodded toward him. "What about you? How'd you end up here?"

"Uh, well, we're visiting family." He lied.

"We?" Meg looked past Sam for the first time, fixing first Dean then MJ with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Oh, sorry." Sam said, "This is my brother Dean and sister MJ."

"Dean, huh?" She asked, looking unimpressed. "So you pulled him back in huh?" She asked, setting her beer down on the table with a thunk. 'Why can't you just let your brother do what he wants to do?"

Everyone just stared at her for a moment. Sam recovered first.

"No, Meg, it's okay, really."

"No it's not, Sam. You're a person, not a piece of luggage."

Dean cleared his throat. "Awkward." He said, before fixing Sam with a questioning look.

Meg crossed her arms, her eyes on Dean, ignoring Sam's attempts to steer her away from his siblings. "He's a person, ya know. An adult who has a right to make his own decisions."

MJ moved out from behind Sam and stood in front of Meg. She slowly looked the shorter girl up and down, her expression a mix of disgust and apparent amusement at what she saw. "What the hell makes you an expert on my brothers? You don't know the first thing about either of them. So why don't you take your push up bra and denim jacket and put them to work on someone who's willing to fall for the innocent, good girl act?" MJ smiled down at Meg, feeling tall for the first time since joining her brothers.

Meg smiled back up at her. "Why don't you run along and let the grownups talk, sweetie?"

MJ took a step forward, but Dean interrupted before she could say anything.

"Pretty sure I've heard enough." Dean said grabbing hold of MJ. "Meg, it was truly a pleasure. Sam, we'll catch up with you later." He said before turning and walking away, MJ in tow.

"Who the hell was she?" MJ asked, craning her neck to get one last glimpse of the chick before Dean pulled her to a pool table where Sam and the girl were no longer visible.

"Some broad Sammy met when he left to head back to California." Dean cleared his throat as he gathered up the balls, placing them on the table. "You know, when we had that fight."

"Right, I got it." MJ said quickly, not needing any further clarification. She remembered the night well. "So who does that skank bitch think she is acting like she knows you?" MJ asked heatedly grabbing a pool cue.

"I got a better question," Dean said, racking up the balls. "What did Sammy tell her that made her call me out?"

MJ hadn't thought that far. She was stuck on the girl's rude behavior toward her brother. Now that she considered it, the only reason this Meg person would have a bone to pick with Dean was if Sammy had complained to her about his brother.

"Hmph." She said as she set up to break. MJ's preoccupation with Meg cost her three games in a row to Dean. She thought back to the argument they'd had the night Sammy had left. It wasn't any worse than some of the other fights she'd witnessed. Okay, so Sam had never taken off before, but she had known he wouldn't stay away for long. And he hadn't, coming back a couple days later, just in time to save them from the freaky pagan god in the orchard. MJ hadn't dwelled on it. She knew that her brothers would get over their crap. She only ever got really upset when they fought physically. There was just something about trading blows that seemed to equate a line being crossed. But she wasn't shocked when her brothers resorted to physical violence once in a while. It seemed…normal, at least for them. But to air their business to a complete stranger? That didn't seem like Sammy at all.

MJ was a little surprised at just how irritated she was getting over this Meg situation. After the third game, Dean went to get them more drinks, and apparently got lost on the way back. MJ spotted him chatting up a lanky brunette in the corner.

"Well, then," She said to herself, seeing he wouldn't be tearing himself away from her anytime soon, "Time to make some money." She scanned the other tables for someone to swindle. Her eyes stopped on a man who looked to be in his forties, leaning over the table in the corner, lining up a shot. She could tell by his posture he _thought_ he knew what he was doing, but really he had no clue. She took in his pager and cell phone, both clipped to his straight leg, light wash jeans waistband and shook her head_. This is going to be so easy, it really isn't even fair_, she thought as she watched him take a swig of his Genny Cream Ale.

MJ sauntered over, twirling a finger in her hair, a sickly sweet smile plastered on her face. The guy looked up after taking a terrible shot and sinking one of his opponent's balls, his look of irritation quickly replaced with a grin as he took in her appearance.

"Can I play, too?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," the guy said yanking the cue from his friend's hand and placing it in hers. "I'm Buddy."

"Christy." She said, smile still firmly in place. "So," she said, pulling out a wad of bills, "I thought it'd be super fun to play for money."

Buddy looked skeptical. He glanced at his friend, who nodded his approval. Buddy turned back to her and shrugged. "If you want, but not too much. I wouldn't feel right about cheating you out of your hard earned cash."

"Yay!" She cheered, placing a twenty down on the edge of the table.

She was up $200 when Buddy and his friend finally called it quits, grumbling as they walked away with their tails between their legs. Not bad for an hour's work, she thought as she racked up the balls. She had noticed Dean keeping one eye on her while he chatted up the brunette. She was surprised he let it go on for as long as it did. _He must really __b__e __into __the girl_, she thought. She hadn't noticed the guy in the baseball cap, sitting in the corner alone, nursing a whiskey. He barely took his eyes off of her all the while she was playing. Had MJ not been so focused on playing dumb, she most certainly would have registered the excessive attention he was paying her.

After Buddy and his pal scurried away, MJ got busy taking some "practice" shots, keeping her aim crappy in hopes of attracting a new victim. The man in the baseball cap now approached her from behind as she lined up a terrible shot and leaned a little further than necessary over the table. She only knew he was there when she felt his weight pressed up against her back.

"Try it like this," he said, in her ear, making her jump as he covered her hand with his, correcting her aim. He squeezed her wrist harder than necessary.

MJ tried to shrug him off. "I got it, thanks." She said, pulling her hand out from under his. He thwarted her efforts to wiggle free of his hold by pressing himself even closer to her body. MJ looked to where Dean had been sitting, hoping to get his attention. Her heart sank when she didn't see him anywhere.

"Where's your mama?" the man whispered in her ear, his goatee scratching along her jawbone. "Where's she hiding out?"

"I don't know." MJ whispered, a different kind of terror filling her. This wasn't just some creep. This was someone who knew Wendy. She could smell whiskey on his breath as she struggled to turn her face away from his. "I swear I haven't seen her in months."

"That bitch owes me money. I intend to collect one way or another. You be sure to tell her that Biz needs to see her." MJ stood stock still as he buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply. "If you want you can pay off Mommy's debt for her. I could make six bills a night off your sweet ass, easy."

MJ looked around, desperate now to get away from his man. She tried frantically to catch the eye of another patron, to convey with a look of panic that she needed help. She knew to anyone around her, it appeared that the man was simply helping her line up a shot.

After what seemed an eternity, the man backed away a few inches, enough for MJ to scramble away from him and around to the other side of the table. She looked at his face, immediately recognizing him as one of her mother's dealers.

"I'll take that as a no. I'm here most nights if you change your mind." He said, smoothing his fingers over his goatee. "You'll see that she gets the message?" He asked, the smile on his lips not reaching his eyes as he returned to his seat in the corner.

MJ stumbled toward the bar, relief sweeping through her when she spotted Dean ordering drinks, his back to her. She approached him as he turned around a beer in one hand and a soda in the other.

"Hey, I was just gonna come break up your game if you didn't call it quits soon." He handed her the soda with a smirk. "You were a little obvious don't you think?"

"Uh, yeah, you're probably right." She glanced to her right, seeing that Biz was still sitting there, talking to a waitress, one eye still on MJ. "Hey, do you mind if we go? I have a headache."

Dean looked her over, his expression suspicious. "Are you okay? You're all flushed."

MJ nodded. "Yeah, it's just kind of warm in here, and ya know, just a headache. That's all." She almost subconsciously turned to check again that Biz hadn't moved. He was still there, still staring at her.

This time, Dean followed her gaze and saw the guy staring at her. He jerked a thumb in Biz's direction. "You know that guy?" he asked.

MJ shook her head. "No." She said, swallowing hard. The bartender leaned toward them, handing a glass to MJ.

"This is from the guy in the back." She said, canting her head toward Biz. "He says thanks for your help." She said with the air of someone who was delivering a compliment.

MJ took the frosty glass, unable to utter a single word in response.

Dean took in the telltale celery stalk protruding from the tomato juice based drink. MJ saw that his jaw was clenched tightly as he looked back at Biz before turning to her. "A _Bloody Mary_?" he asked, "Is that supposed to be a joke? And what does he mean, 'thanks for your help'? What help?" When MJ didn't respond to any of these questions, Dean grabbed the drink from her hand and slammed it down on the bar before striding over to Biz. Dean stood in front of the man, arms crossed over his chest. MJ snapped out of her shocked silence and followed behind him.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, as MJ stood next to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"Dean, please, let's go." She begged, barely more than a whisper. Dean didn't budge, his gaze fixed on Biz.

Biz sipped his drink, seemingly unfazed by Dean's attempts at intimidation.

"I asked you a question." Dean snarled, still ignoring MJ's attempts to pull him away.

Biz shrugged. "I'm just an old family friend. I've known Mary here since she was a little girl." Biz said, turning his gaze back to MJ and looking her up and down. "She grew up nice." He said with a smirk. "Real firm."

Dean launched himself forward and at the same time, Biz stood quickly, pressing a switchblade to Dean's stomach. Dean froze quickly, knowing full well that the guy had intentionally goaded him to get him to go after him.

MJ took a step toward them. "MJ, stay back." Dean said evenly, never taking his eyes off Biz. MJ froze, watching the two men carefully.

"Wendy owes me five hundred dollars." He said calmly. "Now I doubt she gives a shit about you," He said, leaning in close to Dean, "but I will take what she owes me out of your precious little girl over here." He nodded toward MJ. "I hope I'm being clear." He said pressing the blade closer to Dean's skin.

MJ took another deliberate step toward them.

Dean groaned. "MJ get out of here!" he hissed.

MJ held up a wad of cash in front of Biz's face. "Here's three hundred. Put that toward her debt. We'll get you the rest just let him go, please." MJ begged. Biz didn't back away, eyes back on Dean. MJ continued, pleading with the man. "I'll pass on the message, you'll get your money. Please let him go."

After what seemed an eternity, Biz backed away from Dean and snatched the cash out of MJ's outstretched hand. MJ had a feeling he gave in not because of her compelling argument, but because quite a few people were watching them warily. He quickly tucked the money into his pocket and gave them a curt nod. "Pleasure seeing you again." He said before turning and walking out the door.

Dean watched him go before turning his wrath on MJ. "Who the hell was that guy?" He demanded. When MJ didn't respond, he took a deep breath. "If you don't start talking I swear to God I'm going after him." He threatened.

MJ put her hands up. "Okay, okay. But can we get out of here, please? I promise I'll tell you everything in the car."

Dean dragged MJ with him to collect Sammy, who made a hurried apology to Meg, who gave Dean a dirty look as Sam followed him out. Dean hauled his sister outside, only relinquishing his hold on her when they'd reached the Impala.

"Dean, what is the hurry?" Sam asked as Dean screeched out of the parking lot onto the road.

"Okay, explain." Dean demanded of MJ, ignoring his brother.

MJ let out a long sigh. "His name is Biz. He's one of Wendy's dealers." MJ shrugged. "I guess he's been looking for her because she owes him money. He recognized me and thought he could get to Wendy through me."

"What? What happened?" Sam asked, confused.

Dean continued to ignore him, addressing MJ again. "He pulled a knife on me over five hundred bucks?" he said in disbelief.

MJ shook her head. "It's not just five hundred bucks. He thinks she's buying from someone else, maybe selling for someone else too. He figures by threatening to hurt me, he can scare her into coming back to him."

No one spoke for a moment. Dean shook his head. "I should've followed him and kicked the shit out of him." He finally growled.

"It only would've made it worse, Dean." MJ said quietly. "He's got connections. Friends. We would've been hunted if you had retaliated."

"Nice company your mother keeps!" Dean shouted without thinking.

MJ made no response. Sam just gave his brother a warning glance.

"Forget it," Dean said more quietly. "Let's just get the hell out of Dodge."

"Uh, actually, Dean, I think we need to stick around for a while." Sam said.

Dean looked over at his brother. "What? Why?"

Sam shook his head. "There's no way it was just coincidence that we ran into Meg tonight. Something's up. We need to stick around so I can look into her."

MJ felt the adrenaline ebbing away, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach. She tried to breathe through it, willing the nausea away. "Dean," She said between breaths.

Dean ignored her, turning to Sam. "You think something's up with her? Like our kind of thing?" Dean asked.

"Dean-" MJ tried again, but she couldn't seem to make her voice loud enough to be heard over the roar of the Impala's engine.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, but what are the chances we run into her in a random bar in Chicago?"

"Dean, pull over!" MJ shouted before clamping a hand over her mouth.

Dean turned and took in the sickly green tint of her face. "Shit." He said, braking and quickly pulling onto the shoulder.

MJ bolted from the car, barely making it a foot before falling to her knees and retching violently.

Sam quickly got out of the car and knelt beside her, Dean not far behind him. MJ let out a strangled sob, trying to catch her breath between heaves.

"Easy, easy, Kid." Dean said rubbing soothing circles on her back as Sam pulled her hair back, away from her face.

After several minutes, MJ straightened, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You okay?" Dean asked, taking in her frightened expression.

"Dean," she rasped, her eyes wide with panic, "what if she's dead?"

Dean placed a hand on the back of her neck, searching her face. It took him a moment to figure out who she was talking about.

"Look at me." He said, turning her head to face him. "Your mother's alive. Okay? She's alive."

MJ continued sobbing uncontrollably, kneeling on the hard ground. Dean pulled her into him, wrapping his arms around her and gently stroking her hair.

"Shh, take it easy, Kid. It's gonna be okay, I promise." Dean soothed, his comforting words in sharp contrast to his murderous expression, as he looked up at Sam, standing over them. Sam knew why Dean looked so angry, because he felt it, too. Even when she was nowhere to be found, Wendy was still managing to cause MJ pain.


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Hello again! This may seem like filler, but trust me, it's going somewhere:) Thanks for reading. You guys are awesome!**

**Chapter 23**

MJ was lying on her stomach on the lumpy motel bed, a pillow under her chin, her eyes glued to the television screen. Dean was cleaning the already compulsively clean weapons at the tiny table near the door. She didn't see the eye rolls or head shakes that resulted from every sappy scene in the movie, but she heard the snickering and the occasional "oh please" he muttered under his breath. She chose to ignore him. Nothing she said would change his opinion of the movie, and besides, she was way too into it to even be bothered by it. As far as she was concerned, _The Bodyguard_ was a timeless classic that deserved her undivided attention.

Sam emerged from the bathroom, towel drying his damp hair. He paused, standing next to the bed for a few moments, watching as Frank and Rachel said their goodbyes before she boarded the small private plane. MJ discretely wiped a tear from her eye. Sam scoffed, tossing the towel to the floor. "Seriously with this movie?" He asked as he plopped himself down beside her, causing MJ to bounce several inches off the bed. She spared him a quick death glare before returning her attention to the movie. "It's so bad."

"It's a freaking classic, now shut it." MJ said as the music swelled, and Rachel ran off the plane and into Frank's arms. MJ allowed herself to enjoy the long passionate kiss they shared before she grabbed the remote, quickly turning the TV off. "I'm starving." She said standing up and stretching. "Let's go eat."

"I'm in." Dean said, standing up from the table.

"Wait a minute," Sam gestured toward the television with a bewildered laugh. "It wasn't over. I thought you were all into it."

MJ shrugged. "I like to pretend that's where it ends. They should have stayed together. I don't want to see her turn back around and get on the plane, never to see him again. It sucks. My ending is better."

Sam shook his head, getting up and pulling on his jacket. "Whatever. The movie sucks royally either way. And that _song_."

They followed Dean out to the Impala. "Don't _even_ start on the song. The entire soundtrack is genius."

Sam let out another laugh. "You weren't even _born_ when the movie came out."

MJ climbed into the back seat. "Okay, first of all I was born. I was a year old when the movie came out. Second, true classics are appreciated long after their time. That's like saying Dean can't like CCR because they broke up before he was born."

"Hey, hey, leave me and John Foggerty out of this." Dean grinned as he pulled out of the motel parking lot. The truth was MJ and Sam's bickering was like music to his ears. He was worried MJ would take the whole Biz incident badly, especially after her breakdown on the side of the road. But here she was, twenty four hours later, arguing with Sam and acting like her old, pain in the ass self. _Damn the kid is resilient_, he thought. They had moved to a motel in Oak Park today so they were closer to downtown. Sammy had spent the day tailing Meg while Dean and MJ dug up information on her past. Neither of them found anything suspicious. Meg Masters did exist, and the back story she had given Sam seemed to be legit. What was more, Sam didn't catch her doing anything suspicious while stalking her for twelve hours.

MJ had moved on to making fun of Sam's taste in television shows as they pulled into the restaurant. "I swear," she said with a giggle, "You get more turned on by Shark Week than you do a real live woman."

"You know, I think you've been spending too much time with Dean." Sam observed, shaking his head as they piled out of the car.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Dean countered as they made their way inside. As soon as they were all assembled at a table, Sam was all business. "I think I need to dig deeper into her history. I'm telling you something is not right here. I can feel it in my gut. Meg is not on the up and up."

"Okay," Dean said scanning his menu. "We'll give it another day, but then that's it. We shouldn't linger too long here." He gave Sam a loaded look which Sam understood perfectly without further clarification. They'd already had one run in with a "friend" of Wendy's, they didn't need to tempt fate by hanging around much longer. Sam gave a quick nod of his head, conveying his understanding. MJ missed this exchange, as she rapidly typed a text message into her phone.

Dean turned to his sister. "Who you talkin' to?" He asked.

She quickly stashed the phone away in her hoodie pocket. "Um, Spencer."

"Spencer?" Dean asked loudly. "You've been talking to Spencer?"

MJ nodded. "Not much. He sent me a message apologizing for everything and thanking us for our help. He's getting out of the hospital today. He's gonna be okay." MJ looked up at Dean, giving him a challenging look, just waiting for him to open his mouth and forbid her from talking to Spencer.

"That's great news." Sam said as Dean opened his mouth. Sam leveled a look at his brother.

Dean let out a long breath. "Yeah, that's great." He muttered, focusing back on his menu.

The waitress appeared then, her timing perfect, Sam thought, since neither his sister nor his brother looked like they planned to hold their tongues for long. Dean's cell rang shortly after the waitress walked away with their order. He checked the display before standing. "Be right back." He said, making his way outside.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dean, it's Jenna. Jenna Cullen." She said in a clipped tone. Dean thought she sounded funny. Out of breath and almost bewildered.

"Hi Jenna. How's it going?" He asked as he began pacing the sidewalk in front of the diner.

"Uh, not so good actually." She sounded frightened, but seemed hesitant to go on.

"What is it?" Dean asked, his heart hammering. This was it, he thought. Something had gone wrong and they were going to try and take MJ. Dean looked toward the diner, already making plans for a quick escape from Chicago.

"Well, it's-it's probably not even anything you can help with, I just-I don't know who else to call. I mean, the cops won't be able to do anything, but I can't sit around and do nothing."

Dean stopped pacing, now thoroughly confused. "Jenna, what is going on?"

She let out a sigh. "Somebody kidnapped Kinzie." She said, her voice breaking.

"Kidnapped?" Dean shook his head. "Who is Kinzie?"

"My dog." She said, clearly crying freely now.

"Someone kidnapped your dog?" Dean asked, trying and failing to keep the relief from his voice.

"Yes, and I think it was probably my ex-boyfriend, Jarred, but no way can I prove it and I don't even care about anyone getting in trouble in fact I don't care if I ever find out who did it as long as I get her back safe." She paused just long enough to take a quick breath. "And I know I shouldn't even be calling you, it's really not appropriate, but I thought you could refer me to a PI who knows how to handle these types of situations or if that's not really the kind of thing PI's do then maybe you know what I _should_ do because I don't have a clue and I feel like I need to act fast and-" She seemed to have finally run out of steam. She took a few deep breaths. "I just want my baby back."

"Okay, just relax." Dean was surprised to find that his relief that this had nothing to do with MJ had vanished and been replaced by concern for Jenna and a desire - no a _need -_ to fix this for her. "As it turns out, I'm still in the neighborhood. Give me your address and I'll be right over."

She hesitated just long enough for Dean to take notice, before rattling off her address.

"Okay, just hang tight. I'm on my way."

"Thanks, Dean. You have no idea how much I appreciate this. I'm sure you have much more important cases to be tending to." She said sincerely.

"Hey, no worries. Actually, stolen pets are my area of expertise. Really, it's pretty much all I take on."

She let out a small laugh. "I highly doubt that, but thanks for trying."

Dean returned inside and to their booth, pulling a few bills from his wallet. "Get mine to go and take a cab back to the motel." He said handing the cash to Sam.

"Where are you going?' Sam asked, taking the money.

"Duty calls." He said as he started to walk away.

"Wait, Dean-who was on the phone?" Sam called after him.

Dean just waved over his shoulder in response.

Sam looked at MJ who just shrugged. Sam pulled out his cell phone dialing Dean's number.

"What?" Dean answered.

"Where are you going, man?"

Dean sighed. "Jenna called. She needs help with something." He paused, starting the car. "Look, it's no big deal. I'll be back to the motel in a couple hours." Dean hung up before Sam could ask any more questions.

* * *

><p>Dean retuned to the motel close to three hours later. Sam and MJ looked up expectantly as he closed the door behind him. He looked back at both of them. "Hey." He said, pulling off his jacket.<p>

"Hey?" MJ repeated, pausing with the nail polish brush hovering over one of her toes. "That's it? Come on, give us the goods. What happened with Jenna?"

Dean sat beside her on the bed. "Actually, you're not gonna believe this, but I think maybe Meg has something to do with Jenna's missing dog."

MJ sat frozen for a moment before snapping out of it, and replacing the brush in the nail polish bottle. "Seriously?" She asked, scooting closer to Dean. "Why do you think so?" She asked. "And you went over there because her _dog_ is missing?"

Dean didn't hear her questions. His eyes were fixed on her right wrist, a look of anger on his face. MJ took in his expression, confused, until she realized what he was looking at.

_Oh, shit_, she thought, folding her arms across her chest, and tucking her right wrist under her left arm. She knew it was too little too late.

Dean pulled her arm back toward him. "What the hell is this?" he asked her, closely examining the blue and purple finger shaped bruises on her wrist. Sam turned from his laptop, looking over Dean's shoulder. When he saw the marks, he walked over, sitting at Dean's side awaiting MJ's response.

MJ looked back at Dean, biting her lip. She didn't know what to say. She had noticed the bruises forming this morning, where Biz had grabbed and squeezed her wrist the night before. She saw no benefit to telling Dean about their exchange at the pool table, but now that he had seen the bruises, no matter what she told him he'd be pissed that she had kept it from him.

Dean held her right hand in his, turning it over and over, assessing the damage. He eventually looked up at her, still looking pissed. "I'm waiting for an answer, MJ."

MJ took a deep breath, blowing it back out. "It happened last night at the bar while I was playing pool."

Dean looked confused. "You mean that old guy you were hustling? He did this?"

MJ shook her head. "No, it was Biz." MJ began, now resigned to the fact she would have to divulge everything that happened at the bar to her brothers. "He came up behind me while I was taking some practice shots, and grabbed my arm. He asked where Wendy was." She pulled her hand free of Dean's hold and folded her arms. "That's it."

Dean and Sam just looked at her for a moment before Dean spoke again. "He threatened you." It wasn't a question.

"Well…" MJ said.

A muscle in Dean's jaw was twitching, his face reddening. He took a deep breath, getting up off the bed and pacing the room. "You didn't feel the need to tell me about this? I mean, are we gonna play this game again, 'cause shit MJ it didn't end so well last time!"

"Dean." Sam said quietly.

Dean looked at Sam, intending to let him have it as well for even considering taking MJ's side in this, but the look on Sam's face stopped him. His eyes weren't saying, _hey, give her a break, go easy on her_. They said, _yeah, I'm frustrated, too, but shouting at her won't help anything_. Dean sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and took a moment to cool off.

"Okay," He said finally, turning to his sister, "MJ you should hit the hay. We've all got a lot to do tomorrow."

MJ looked torn between relief that she wasn't going to get reamed out and disappointment at not getting her questions answered. Apparently the curiosity won out because she decided to press her luck. "What? I want to hear about Jenna and the missing dog." she whined.

"I'll fill everybody in tomorrow at breakfast. Now come on, lights out." Dean insisted.

MJ trudged into the bathroom frowning and brushed her teeth. She came back out and begrudgingly got into bed.

Sam returned to his laptop, Dean sitting across from him, his eyes on the muted baseball game on the television. Sam knew Dean wasn't really paying any attention to it, but was waiting it out until he was sure MJ was asleep. After thirty minutes, Dean got Sam's attention, canting his head toward the motel room door. Sam quietly closed the laptop and followed Dean outside.

Dean slowly closed the door behind them. They didn't stray far from the room, standing in the hallway mere feet from the door.

"Check this out." Dean said pulling out his cell phone. He flipped it open and hit a few keys before handing it to Sam. Sam took it, taking in the blurry photo of a figure in a sweatshirt, hood pulled up over their head, with a small white dog under one arm. Closer inspection revealed that the figure seemed to be female and a wisp of hair sticking out from under the hood told Sam she was a blonde. Sam took all of this in in a matter of seconds. What really caught his attention, and prevented him from examining the photo any further, was the girl's eyes.

"Dean, what is this?" he asked, barely more than a whisper.

"That's a photo Jenna snapped of the dog thief. She forwarded it to my phone. She look familiar?" Dean asked.

"Could be Meg." Sam answered, still transfixed by the eyes in the photo. "Dean, her eyes. They're-"

"Pitch black? Yeah, I caught that, too. Looks like your little friend ain't human."

"Demon," was all Sam could manage to utter.

Dean nodded. "Just like that freaky bastard we took care of on the plane." Dean said, thinking with distaste of his not to pleasant flying experience.

Sam handed the phone back to Dean. "What the hell does Jenna have to do with this?"

"I don't think she has anything to do with it. I think this is all just a big, elaborate plan meant to draw us in. This…_thing_ wants us to come after it. We gotta take care of this bitch and fast."

"What do you think it wants with us?" Sam asked, now pacing the hallway.

"I don't know, but we have the advantage now. We're onto its game. Tomorrow we follow Meg or whoever the hell this thing is and we exorcise it."

Sam looked hesitant. "Don't you think that would be like walking right into a trap?"

"You have another suggestion?" Dean asked.

Sam's silence said it all.

"We take care of this tomorrow. First thing." Dean declared, his hand on the door knob.

"Wait." Sam said, approaching his brother. "You really gonna let this Biz thing go? I thought you were going to explode earlier."

Dean gave his brother a long look before responding. "Oh no, I'm gonna take care of that son of a bitch. He's not getting away with messing with MJ. But we need to finish this first."

"What are you going to do?" Sam asked anxiously.

Dean just smirked at his younger brother before pushing the door open and heading inside.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Hello, again! We're coming to the end of Season 1 now, so in the interest of keeping the story somewhat in line with the series, I'm continuing with a loose interpretation of the eposide Shadow. I do not own some of the dialogue in this chapter, and of course, I don't own Dean or Sam either. On an unrelated note, I have to retract my earlier statement about "I Wear my Sunglasses at Night" being Cory Hart's only hit. I heard "Never Surrender" on my way to work the other day and rocked it:) As always you guys are the best. Enjoy! **

**Chapter 24**

True to form, Dean woke them at 6 AM by blaring Blue Oyster Cult while getting dressed.

MJ rolled over squinting up at him. He grinned back at her, pulling a t-shirt over his head.

"Damn it, Dean!" She complained, covering her head with a pillow. She heard Sammy grunt and roll out of bed, heading into the bathroom without a word.

"We got a big day today. Get up!" He ordered.

MJ's brain slowly went to work remembering the events of the night before. Her eyes popped open as she pulled the pillow off her head and looked up at her brother again.

"So are you going to tell me about Jenna or what?" MJ asked.

"Or what," Dean said, smacking the side of her leg. "Get up."

MJ scowled at him, rolling out of bed. She stood there, glaring down at him as he laced his boots.

"It's not gonna work." He said, trying to ignore her staring.

She kept it up, crossing her arms, her eyes never wavering from his face.

When he went to work on the second boot, MJ decided she needed to up the annoying factor. "_Deeeeean. Deeeeean. Pleeeeease_!" She whined. Even she was appalled at how grating she sounded.

He sat up, blowing out a breath. "Fine."

MJ sat back down, clapping her hands, a grin on her face.

"No interrupting." Dean said, pointing at her.

"Deal."

"Meg stole Jenna's dog yesterday morning."

Dean barely got the sentence out of his mouth before MJ gasped audibly.

"What? That skanky bitch! Why Jenna? Does she know her? Ooh, I knew she was a no good piece of trash." MJ said, shaking her head.

Dean leveled a look at her. "You finished?"

"Oh, sorry," she held her hands up. "Not another word. Promise."

"We think Meg is a demon. Jenna snapped a photo with her cell phone. Meg's eyes are pitch black."

MJ's eyes grew large. "Like the freak on the plane." She said in a harsh whisper.

Dean couldn't help but grin. "You know it still counts as interrupting, even if you whisper."

"I'm sorry, but seriously? A demon? I knew she was an appalling waste of space, but _a demon_?"

Dean gave her an inquisitive look. "Don't get me wrong, I want to gank the bitch. But you hated her from the minute she walked up to our table. What's the deal?"

MJ's eyebrows rose up toward her hair line. "Really? She waltzes up to us and tries to school you about how you treat Sammy and you don't know why I can't stand the sight of her?"

"Yeah, but this is more than that. Plus, you're not mad at Sammy and he's the one who spilled all the family drama to some strange chick just 'cause he thought she was hot."

MJ shook her head rapidly from side to side. "No, that's just it. She wasn't just some chick. I could tell from the get go, she was out to get Sammy. At first I thought she just…_wanted him_, wanted him. Ya know. But now who knows what her motives are. No matter what she is: demon, witch, two bit whore,"

Dean frowned at her, but didn't scold her for her inventive language. MJ continued.

"She's a user. She's a predator, and Sammy is her prey." MJ said, and Dean was a little shocked to hear not only annoyance and anger in her voice, but something more. It sounded a lot like pure hatred.

"A predator? Really?" Dean said, unconvinced. "Sam made a choice, MJ. He spilled his guts, nobody twisted his arm."

MJ scoffed. "You're so black and white, Dean. It's not always that simple. Girls like Meg-"

"You mean demon girls?"

"No, I just mean some girls, _human_ girls, know they can convince guys to confide in them, and they get them to air their dirty laundry for the sole purpose of throwing it back in their face later. They make guys _think _they're only asking because they care, but really they want to know all the dirt so they can use it against them later."

Dean looked unconvinced.

MJ took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. "I'm just saying that some people are really good at finding people's weaknesses and using them to get what they want."

Dean considered his sister carefully. "How'd you get so…" Dean paused searching for the right word.

"Deep? Insightful? Ridiculously smart?" MJ offered.

Dean shook his head. He suddenly snapped his fingers, finding the right descriptor. "Jaded." He announced.

Dean's grin faltered when he saw the hurt look his sister was giving him. She got up off the bed, crossing her arms in front of her.

"Well excuse me for wanting to defend my brothers." She stomped to her bag, slung it over her shoulder and went to stand by the bathroom door, waiting for her turn in the shower.

Dean stood, slowly approaching her. "Hey, MJ-"

"Just forget it," She interrupted. "What's the plan for taking care of this bitch?" MJ asked, giving Dean a cold look.

Dean didn't want to let it go, but considering his sister's mood, he decided it would be best to just answer her question. "Well, we're going to stake out Meg's place, wait for her to leave. When she does, I'm going to tail her while you and Sammy talk to her neighbors and search her place. Maybe she'll leave the dog there and we can snatch it back. That would be one less thing to worry about."

MJ tried to keep her lips from turning up at the corners. It was so comical to hear Dean talk about someone's pet like he gave a crap. The scary thing was, he _did_ give a crap. She had never seen her oldest brother like this. He was totally smitten by Jenna, and MJ found that she was actually okay with that.

"What?" Dean asked, noticing her changed expression.

MJ shook her head. "Nothing. So, why are _you_ following Meg? Why not Sammy?"

"Because my deep, insightful, ridiculously smart sister pointed out the fact that this chick is preying on Sammy and I'm not gonna make it any easier for her. Sammy is staying away from her."

MJ gave him a dubious look. "And what about you?"

"Oh, MJ, you're too funny." He said shaking his head. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Remember this: Dean is always the predator, never the prey."

MJ just rolled her eyes. The bathroom door opened, Sammy emerging amidst a cloud of steam, and MJ walked in laughing to herself. Her brother really had no clue.

* * *

><p><em>If I could go back in time my first order of business would be gutting the son of a bitch who invented pantyhose<em>, MJ thought viciously. She tried like hell to listen to Meg's neighbor, Mr. Norman Heisler, and not fidget, but the damn nylons were itchy and there was a run starting at her right ankle. _A college student interning with the FBI__ wouldn't fidget_, she thought, _they'd be used to wearing these God forsaken things_.

Sam threw her a reproachful look before asking Mr. Heisler his next question.

"So how long ago did Ms. Masters move in?"

"Oh, she's only been here about 3 weeks, a month at the most. Tell you the truth I almost never see her. In fact, I thought she was on vacation or something. I hadn't seen her at all the past few days until I saw her this morning walking her dog. I didn't even know she had a dog. The thing never makes any noise."

"A white Yorkshire terrier?" Sam asked.

Mr. Heisler shrugged. "White, small, I guess it's a terrier. I'm not really a dog person." He set his coffee cup down, looking from one sibling to the other and back again. "Is this girl in some kind of trouble?"

"Well, that's what we're trying to figure out. We think she could be in danger, but we're hoping we're wrong. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary that might indicate something strange is going on? Anything at all that struck you as odd?"

Mr. Heisler gave this some thought before shaking his head. "She keeps odd hours, coming in late at night or not at all, but that's not so unusual for a young, pretty girl" He said with the air of a doting parent who couldn't help but be lenient with their misbehaving child. "Times are different now. I'm no fool." He said with a smile and wink at MJ. MJ just looked back, completely bemused. _Weird __old man_, she thought, reaching down to hike up the left leg of the pantyhose yet again.

"She ever have any visitors?" Sam asked.

"Not that I noticed."

Sam opened his mouth to ask another question when his phone began ringing.

_If I should stay, __  
><em>_I would only be in your way._

Sam's face reddened, and he leveled an angry look at MJ conveying that he was not at all amused.

MJ just barely kept a straight face as Sam dug around in his pockets trying to find the phone and silence it.

_So I'll go, but I know __  
><em>_I'll think of you ev'ry step of the way_.

Sam momentarily gave up his search, clearly mortified, but not willing to blow their cover by yelling at MJ in front of Mr. Heisler.

_And I will always love you.  
>I will always love you.<em>

"Aren't you going to answer that Agent Young?" MJ asked innocently.

Sam finally located the phone in his breast pocket and quickly silenced it.

"Sorry about that." He said to Mr. Heisler, his face the color of a very ripe tomato.

Mr. Heisler leaned forward across the table toward Sam. "Don't be embarrassed, son, Whitney is a legend. Honestly, who doesn't love that song? The only thing better is the movie."

* * *

><p>"I swear I'm going to kick your ass!" Sam whispered harshly, as they left Mr. Heisler's apartment.<p>

"You'll think twice before you dis Whitney again." MJ shot back, unable to keep the triumphant smile off her face.

"And what was with all the fidgeting? Can't you sit still?"

"Hey, you wear the pantyhose and skirt next time and see how still you can be."

Neither of them spoke again as they broke into Meg's apartment. Their search yielded nothing. There was almost no furniture, very little clothing and no food at all. It was as if she was only pretending to live here. There was no sign of the dog, which MJ found odd since they hadn't seen Meg take it with her when she left this morning.

"Nothing here." Sam said tersely, leading the way to the door and holding it open for MJ.

"Come on, Sammy. Don't be such a poor sport. You gotta admit it was pretty funny. I mean, I couldn't have planned the timing to be any better." She said, clearly pleased with herself.

"Keep it up." Sam mumbled, as he relocked Meg's door.

The Impala came to a stop at the curb just as Sam and MJ made their way down the front steps of the building. Dean jumped out, coming around the front of the car and onto the sidewalk.

"Perfect timing." Sam said. Then he took in Dean's anxious, overly excited expression. "What is it?"

"Sammy," He said, in a slightly higher than normal voice, a wild look in his eyes. "I think this has something to do with the thing that killed Mom."

* * *

><p>They rode in complete silence back to the motel, each lost in their own thoughts. Dean had filled them in on what he had witnessed at the warehouse, about Meg speaking to someone or something through an ancient looking goblet. He told them how she had told whoever was on the other end that he shouldn't come after all because the Winchesters were in town and knew about what he had done to their mother. Beyond that all they could do was speculate as to who this thing was and how Meg was connected to it. They each sat silently, absorbed in their own thoughts as Dean sped toward the motel.<p>

Once assembled inside the room, Dean locked and salted the door, and proceeded to lay salt lines at all of the windows. Not until Dean had pulled the curtains tight did Sammy ask his first question.

"So she was planning to bring the…demon or whatever here? But for what?"

Dean turned toward his brother and shrugged. "I don't know, but the point is he's coming here." Dean walked slowly toward Sam. MJ sat on the edge of the bed, silently watching her brothers. She studied Dean's face as he approached Sammy, not liking what she saw at all. There was a glint in Dean's eye that hadn't been there before. It was almost maniacal. MJ shivered involuntarily when she realized that Scotty had the same look in his eyes that night in the cabin…

Sam looked unconvinced. "What if we're wrong, Dean?"

Dean shook his head emphatically. "I know what I heard Sammy. She was talking to it…him. She mentioned you. Shit she even mentioned that night with Mom and-" Dean stopped abruptly, looking uncertainly at Sam.

"And what, Dean?"

"She said," Dean took another step, closing the short distance between himself and Sammy. "She said 'they know it was you that killed the girlfriend. They've made that connection'." Dean offered Sam an apologetic look. Sammy turned away from both his siblings, crossing his arms over his chest and pacing with his eyes cast toward the floor. To MJ's horror she saw that same glint shining in Sammy's eyes. Dean moved to deliberately step in front of Sam, halting his pacing. Dean waited until Sam looked up at him. "We can get this thing, Sammy. End this now. Tonight." Dean's voice was quiet, but full of determination.

"You think it could really be the demon that killed her?" Sam said, clearly wanting to believe that this was real, finally. That they had a feasible lead to follow instead of chasing shadows.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know for sure, Sammy, but it's the best lead we've got. I say we trash that black altar at the warehouse, grab Meg, and have ourselves a friendly little interrogation."

Sam shook his head. "No, we can't. We shouldn't tip her off. We've gotta stake out that warehouse. We've gotta see who, or what, is showin' up to meet her."

Dean considered this for a moment. He knew Sam was probably right. "I'll tell you one thing. I don't think we should do this alone."

* * *

><p>Dean paced outside the motel room, phone in hand. He didn't know why he was having so much trouble making this call. He had called his father no less than a dozen times since picking up MJ in Chicago. He had left voicemail after voicemail, never hearing anything back. But this was different somehow. Even if he got voicemail, it would still be hard to say what he knew he needed to. Dean swallowed and dialed the phone, halting his pacing a few yards from the motel room door. The phone rang twice before going to voicemail. Dean cleared his throat. "Dad, it's me." He took a deep breath before continuing. "We think we've got a serious lead on the thing that killed Mom. So, uh, this warehouse—it's 1435 West Erie. Dad, if you get this, get to Chicago as soon as you can." Dean snapped the phone shut as Sam returned from the Impala, the bags slung over his shoulders near bursting.<p>

"Voicemail?" Sam asked.

"Yeah," Dean answered, canting his head toward the bags. "What the hell is all that?" He asked.

Sam shrugged. "I took everything. Holy water, every weapon I could think of, exorcism rituals form about a half dozen religions. I'm not sure what to expect so I guess we should just expect everything."

"That's a comforting thought." Dean muttered as he followed Sam back inside the motel room.

An hour later, MJ sat on the bed, a magazine in her lap, aimlessly flipping through the pages while she watched her brothers clean their guns. She didn't like where this was going one bit. She had of course seen her brothers preparing for a hunt before. That was nothing new to her. But this was something different entirely. This was personal. This time, the focus and determination on both their faces scared the hell out of her. She knew, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that her brothers would stop at nothing to get this thing, to finish this once and for all. No matter the cost.

MJ had kept her mouth shut since Dean picked her and Sammy up at Meg's apartment. For the first time since joining her brothers on the road MJ felt awkward and out of place. Like she was intruding. Mary wasn't her mother. This wasn't her pain or her revenge to have. She wanted to tell them not to go. She wanted to beg them to stay here with her where they would be safe. But she knew those words would be wasted breath. There was nothing she could say to stop her brothers from taking this chance to avenge their mother's death. Even if it was at the expense of their own lives.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Hey, there! So I tried my best to keep Dean true to his character in this one. To be honest, I really hadn't put much thought into Biz's demise, but you all seemed quite eager to see him get his just desserts. So, I hope this lives up to your expectations! Enjoy!**

Dean and Sam exited the warehouse, bruised and battered. Sam limped along next to his brother, his left leg bleeding freely just below the knee where Meg had sliced him. Dean had the clearly shaken terrier tucked under his left arm, massaging the large knot that had formed on the back of his head with his free hand.

"God I feel like a freakin' rag doll." He muttered. Kinzie looked up at him, canting her head to the side.

"Yeah, I guess getting repeatedly tossed into a wall has that effect." Sam replied.

Dean gave a grateful sigh as they reached the Impala.

"At least it's over and she's dead. She can't mess with us anymore." Sam commented opening the passenger side door and climbing in. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally. He had prepared himself to come face to face with the evil thing that killed his mother and girlfriend. He found he had been equal parts relieved and disappointed to learn that Meg had tricked them, had only pretended to be in league with the demon responsible for ruining their family in order to lure them there so she could draw out their father and kill him, kill them all. He found he was annoyed with himself for feeling relieved.

Dean nodded in agreement as he opened the back door. "Yeah, and for once I'm glad Dad didn't show." He paused, holding the small dog out in front of him. "Don't pee in my car." He said sternly. Kinzie whined and licked her nose in response.

Dean got behind the wheel and started the car, noticing Sam's knowing grin.

"What?" He snapped at his brother.

"Dude, I can't believe you're letting that dog ride in your car."

Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, watching the dog scurry back and forth on the seat, looking first out the driver side window, and then scampering over to the passenger side, all the while her tongue hanging stupidly out of her mouth, her tail wagging like crazy.

"Shut it." Dean ordered, putting the car in gear and heading toward the motel.

Sam was silent for a few minutes.

"Seriously though, Dean, once you've returned the dog what do you say we take off tonight?" Sam said hopefully. Dean shot him an incredulous look. "Come on, man. We only stayed to take care of Meg and she's dead. Let's just forget about this Biz guy and get the hell out of here before the cops connect the dead girl in the alley with us."

Dean started to protest, and then stopped, looking at Sam with wide eyed excitement.

He barked out a laugh. "Sammy, you're freakin' brilliant!" Dean exclaimed, looking like inspiration had struck.

"I am?" Sam asked, wondering what frightening plans were forming in Dean's head.

Dean's only response was to hang a quick U-turn.

* * *

><p>"Wait here." Dean ordered as he scooped up the dog and headed into the motel.<p>

Sam rolled his window down. "Seriously, Dean?" He called after his brother, a note of panic in his voice. "This was your idea! Why don't you wait in the car with the-"

"Hey!" Dean shouted taking a couple steps back toward the car. "Keep it down would ya? You want to attract attention to yourself right now?"

Sam just looked up at his brother, exasperated.

Dean held up two fingers. "Two minutes, tops." He said, loping up to the motel room.

MJ bolted up off the bed when Dean entered. She took in the bruises forming on his face and the cut along his arm before noting the dog he was carrying like a football.

"Are you okay?" She asked approaching him. "What happened? Where's Sam?"

Dean brushed her hands away as she reached out to assess his injuries. "Whoa. Easy. Sam's in the car. I'm fine. We're both fine." He assured her, passing the dog to her. "Here, I need you to call Jenna and tell her the dog is okay and that I'll return her to her in the morning. Just watch her until we get back."

"Where are you going?" MJ asked clearly disappointed that they were leaving again so soon. She had spent the last three hours fretting over their safety and really didn't have the strength to worry any longer.

"We just gotta tie up some loose ends." Dean said, heading toward the door.

"Dean wait."

"Stay in the room and make sure you don't break the salt lines." He said opening the door.

"Dean!" She all but screamed, making him stop and turn toward her and really look at her for the first time since returning. She looked so young, standing there clutching the dog to her chest, a look of panic on her face.

"What is it?" He asked taking a step back toward her.

MJ just looked at him for a moment. She swallowed, taking a deep breath. "Did you get him?" She asked quietly.

Dean didn't have to ask what she meant. He shook his head. "No, but we took care of Meg." Dean forced a smirk. "She'll think twice before she insults Dean Winchester again."

"_So_ not the time for jokes." MJ admonished.

Dean made his way toward her, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We're okay. Okay?" He asked her, watching her face carefully as he awaited her response.

She gave a feeble nod.

"We will be right back. I promise." He leaned down and kissed her forehead before heading back to the door. "Just keep the fluff ball occupied and don't let her pee on my stuff." He ordered before pulling the door closed behind him. MJ stood staring at the closed door for several minutes, absently scratching Kinzie's ears.

* * *

><p>"I am <em>so<em> not okay with this, Dean." Sam spat angrily. He and Dean sat in the Impala in the parking lot of the dive they had visited two nights before. From here, they had a clear view of the black Lincoln Navigator that Biz had parked in the back corner of the lot, a good distance away from all the other cars.

"Look, Sammy just wait until I've been inside five minutes, then make the…deposit. As soon as you do, you call 911 and then wait down the road for me." He looked over at his younger brother. "It's foolproof."

Sam looked back at Dean in disbelief. "Foolproof?" He asked, barking a humorless laugh. "_Foolproof_? You must be joking. I've actually never heard of a plan where more things could go horribly wrong, Dean!" Sam was nearly hysterical.

"Hey!" Dean shouted. "This guy threatened MJ. What if he makes good on that? Do you really want him to get away with hurting our sister?"

Sam leveled an exasperated look at Dean. "Of course not, but doesn't this seem just a little extreme to you?"

Dean shook his head. "Hell, no. This guy is a drug dealing piece of shit, Sam. He's getting exactly what he deserves."

Without another word Dean opened his car door and stepped out. He leaned down sticking his head back in the car. "Five minutes." He said before slamming the car door and heading into the bar.

Dean stood in the doorway, scanning the room for Biz. He spotted him sitting at the same corner table, his ball cap pulled low over his eyes, scanning the crowd. Dean flexed his fingers, his knuckles cracking before he swiftly made his way toward the man. Biz was focused on a waitress to his left, watching her as she leaned over, serving drinks to a table of customers. Dean took advantage of the man's preoccupation.

"Knock, knock." Dean said. As Biz turned toward Dean's voice, Dean smashed his fist into the man's jaw with enough force to knock him sideways off his chair and send him sprawling onto the floor. There were several gasps from patrons, and the waitress Biz had been watching actually screamed.

All eyes were on Dean as he stepped forward and stood over Biz. The man on the floor rolled onto his back, clearly dazed. He looked up at Dean, slowly regaining his focus. He shook his head rapidly, rage slowly replacing the look of shock on his face. "That wasn't smart." He snarled.

"Get up." Dean said, looking down at him.

Biz reached into his pocket. He was quick, but Dean was ready. No sooner had he flicked the blade open than Dean had kicked it out of his hand, sending it skittering away and coming to rest under one of the pool tables.

"I said get up." Dean repeated.

Biz was seething as he got to his feet, never taking his eyes off of Dean.

"Where's little Mary? I was looking forward to seeing a whole lot more of her." Biz said, leering at Dean.

"Come on, take a shot." Dean said, ignoring the man's comment about his sister.

Biz shook his head, chuckling. "You have no idea the world of hurt you just brought down on yourself."

Dean shrugged. "So what's new?"

"What is she to you?" Biz asked, still leering. "Niece? Sister?"

"Enough talk, guy. What, are you afraid to take a shot?" Dean goaded.

Biz started laughing again. "Wendy used to offer her up, you know. When she was out of money and needed a fix." Biz shrugged taking half a step toward Dean. "She offered her to me once or twice." Biz gave a nasty smile, shaking his head. "After hearing the stories from some friends who accepted the offer, I was sorry I missed out." He looked Dean straight in the eye, his expression turning serious. "I wouldn't make that mistake again."

Dean lunged at the man, knocking him back to the floor. Biz was strong though, and he was ready for it this time. He quickly overpowered Dean and got a few good punches in before Dean threw him off, scrambling to his feet. Biz followed suit and swung at Dean. Dean dodged the blow, grabbing Biz by the shoulders and pulling him forward, kneeing him hard in the stomach. Biz bent forward, winded and Dean took advantage of his momentary incapacitation to land a jab to his mouth. Biz stumbled backward falling against a table. Dean pulled him upright by the collar of his shirt and smashed his fist into the man's face again. And again. And again. Biz's mouth was bleeding freely and Dean was satisfied to see that he had effectively wiped the smirk from his face. It had been replaced by a vacant, dazed look. Dean heard the sirens outside and relinquished his hold on Biz's shirt, letting the man stumble back and land in a chair. Dean stood, staring angrily down at Biz, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to catch his breath.

"Believe it or not, pal, your night is about to get a whole lot worse." Dean turned to leave, but stopped, facing Biz once more. "Pleasure seeing you again." He spat before walking away.

Dean made his way quickly out the back door and around the side of the building, sticking to the shadows. He made his way down the alley beside the bar, and stopped, hiding behind a dumpster to catch a peek at the officers approaching Biz's vehicle cautiously. One of them raised his flashlight, shining it into the backseat. "Whoa!" He shouted, unholstering his gun. "I've got a body over here!" Several more officers approached, weapons drawn.

"What do you have?" Another cop shouted.

"A dead girl and a shitload of guns." The first answered excitedly.

Dean slipped away quietly, having heard enough. He walked down the mostly deserted street for about ten minutes before catching sight of the Impala and running toward it.

He climbed into the passenger seat. "Go." He said, not looking over at Sam.

Sam gave Dean a surprised look. "You okay?" He had expected more gloating that the plan had worked. Maybe even an 'I told you so'. And he had definitely anticipated Dean forcing him out of the driver's seat. "It worked, right?" Sam said, suddenly nervous that something had gone wrong.

"Yeah, it worked. He's probably getting arrested right now."

Sam just looked at his brother, brow furrowed. Dean turned to him, exasperated.

"Just drive, Sammy." He ordered, turning to stare straight out the windshield, his face betraying no emotion, his jaw muscle twitching every few seconds.

Sam drove toward the motel, keeping his mouth shut. His stomach tightened at the drastic change in Dean's demeanor. Something had happened inside the bar. Dean did look a little roughed up, but nothing out of the ordinary for them. As they neared the motel, Sam couldn't take it any longer.

"Dean, what's going on?" Sam demanded.

Dean just shook his head, not bothering to look over at his brother.

Sam was getting really annoyed. He pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. "Look, I just loaded a _dead demon_ into the back of a drug dealer's car along with half a dozen pistols and sawed off shotguns, breaking God knows how many laws in the process. I think I deserve to know what the hell went on in that bar."

Dean finally turned toward Sam, considering the younger man carefully. Sam was right, Dean knew that. He needed to know what Biz had said, especially since they would have to confront MJ about it, and there was no way in hell Dean could do that alone. But Dean knew how much it would hurt Sam to hear it, and he wanted to spare his sibling that pain.

"I'm waiting for an answer, Dean." Sam said slowly, turning in his seat to face his brother.

Dean would have smiled, maybe even laughed out loud at the irony of it if he weren't so sick to his stomach with nerves. Those were the words he had used on MJ when he had discovered the mark Biz left on her arm. He had been so pissed at her for trying to keep things from him. _Well, shit_, he thought as he sighed, running a hand over his face.

Dean took a deep breath. "This Biz guy said something while we were fighting. Something about MJ." He started. He watched as Sam's body visibly stiffened.

"What about her?" Sam asked quietly.

Dean paused, trying to decide how best to word his response. He opened his mouth a few times, then changed his mind and closed it. Sam was getting impatient.

"Dean." He pleaded, unable to take the suspense.

Dean decided there was no point trying to soften the blow. "He said Wendy was offering up MJ in exchange for drugs." Dean said quickly, looking anywhere but at his brother.

Sam's eyes widened, as he processed this. "What do you mean 'offering her up'?"

"Come on, Sammy, don't make me say it." Dean spat, still avoiding Sam's gaze.

Both brothers were silent, lost in their own tortured, furious thoughts. Sam ran a hand through his hair, finally turning away from Dean.

"What do we do?" Sam finally asked, and Dean heard the sadness in his voice mixed with the anger.

Dean knew the answer to this. He knew what Jenna would tell him to do, and he knew it was the right thing. Still, going from knowing what was right to actually doing it…that was one big freaking leap.

Dean swallowed, turning back to Sam. "Well, we-" he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "We gotta talk to her about it. See if it's true." Dean took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, knowing he was way ill equipped for this. He could barely say it, how in the hell was he going to actually do it?

* * *

><p>It was nearly 3 AM when Dean and Sam pulled into the motel parking lot. They walked quietly toward their room. Dean reached out to unlock the door when Sam's hand shot out, halting his progress.<p>

"I think we should do this tonight. Talk to her, I mean. No point putting it off." He said when Dean looked up at him.

Dean looked almost frightened at the idea, then his face brightened ever so slightly. "Unless she's asleep. Wouldn't want to wake her." He said hopefully.

Sam gave him a patronizing look. "Please."

Dean frowned, knowing as well as Sam that MJ was wide awake, waiting for their safe return. Sure enough, no sooner had he pushed the door open than, for the second time that night, MJ was practically on top of him, firing off questions.

"Where the hell were you guys? What happened to your face? Is that your blood or someone else's?"

Kinzie yipped at them, standing beside MJ, tail wagging like mad. MJ ran her finger over the cut above Dean's left eye. He knew it probably needed stitches, but he had bigger problems right now. He took hold of MJ's wrist, lowering her arm back to her side.

"We need to talk." He canted his head toward the bed. Sit down."

MJ opened her mouth to protest but was cut off by Dean.

"I'll explain everything later, MJ, but this can't wait. It's important."

MJ looked confused, but did as she was told and perched herself on the bottom of the bed, arms crossed. Dean sat beside her on the bed. Sam pulled a chair over from the table, positioning it in front of his siblings. The dog seemed to sense the tension in the room, and set up camp on MJ's feet.

"What's wrong?" MJ asked, the worry, evident in her voice.

Dean rested his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. He turned toward MJ, his hands clasped together, trying to hide the fact that they were shaking. He couldn't remember ever feeling so uncomfortable in his entire life. He looked to Sam, silently begging him to take over. The look Sam gave him made it quite clear Sam was not taking the reins on this one. After fixing Sam with a quick glare, Dean turned back to MJ.

"Look, uh," he began pausing to collect his thoughts. "We ran into Biz tonight and-"

"Ran into or went looking for?" MJ asked knowingly.

Dean held up a hand, silencing her. "It doesn't matter." He continued. "He said some things to me that uh, well, if they're true, we really need to know."

"What kind of things?" MJ asked suspiciously. When Dean didn't answer right away she turned to Sam. Sam gestured back to Dean.

MJ turned back to Dean, her patience clearly wearing thin. "Dean! What kind of things?"

Dean reluctantly looked up at her. "He said that Wendy…traded you. For drugs. Made you do things with dealers."

MJ was silent, staring stony faced at her brother, watching as a blush crept up his cheeks.

No one spoke. The silence was deafening, and what was probably less than a minute seemed like hours before MJ responded, still staring at Dean.

"Are you asking me if my mother pimped me out in exchange for drugs?"

Neither brother answered, both looking back at her expectantly. Dean's heart hammered in his chest as he waited for her response. He dreaded hearing it, but didn't think he could take the suspense any longer. A quick glance at Sam told him his brother felt the same way.

MJ took a deep breath, her expression still unreadable.

"That is the most ridiculous, disgusting thing I have ever heard." She said angrily.

Dean just stared at her, not allowing himself to feel relieved until she flat out denied it, but not able to form a coherent sentence at the moment.

Sam picked up on Dean's sudden inability to speak. "So it's not true, then?" He asked.

MJ looked back and forth between them. "Of course it's not true! Why would you believe anything that came out of that miscreant's mouth?"

Dean was so weak with relief, he couldn't even raise his head to look at MJ. He stared down at the floor, taking deep breaths as his heart rate returned to normal.

"Oh, thank God." He heard Sam murmur.

MJ groaned as she stood, making her way toward the armchair where she had left her duffel bag. Kinzie trotted after her. "You guys are ridiculous, you know that? Some piece of shit drug dealer tells you I was a whore and you just assume it's true!" She shouted at them as she rifled through the bag.

Dean stood suddenly, Sam following suit. "Whoa, whoa, whoa." He said approaching her. "I never said that you were…that. I never thought you were choosing to do it, MJ. That's not what we were asking. Not at all."

She yanked her toothbrush from the bag and turned toward him. "Look, it really doesn't matter anyway, because it never happened." She moved to walk around Dean, but he stepped to the side, blocking her path.

"MJ," He said, "Don't be mad. We're just glad you're mother didn't…make you…you know." Dean cleared his throat, the feeling of awkwardness returning.

MJ's face softened. "I know, Dean." She sighed. "I'm really tired, okay? I'm going to get ready for bed."

Dean nodded stepping out of her way. He turned to Sam once she was in the bathroom, the water running. "See? No sweat. I told you we could handle it." He grinned, smacking Sam on the chest.

Sam chuckled at the obvious relief Dean was feeling and couldn't help but feel a little jealous that he wasn't feeling it, too. Dean had bought MJ's performance hook, line and sinker. Sam hadn't.


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: So I know it's been _way_ too long since the last update. My apologies. This one is a little short, but it seemed like the right place to end this chapter. Thanks so much for reading. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 26**

Dean rang the doorbell, the terrier tucked under his left arm yipping loudly in response to the bell. He saw the curtain on the door pull back and Jenna's face appeared. A loud scream came from within as the curtain fell back into place. The door flew open, Jenna running out.

"Kinzie!" She shouted as Dean handed the dog to her, grinning in spite of himself. The dog went berserk licking at her face and yipping happily. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again. I'm so glad you're okay." Dean saw tears glistening in her eyes and thought it odd someone so tough could be reduced to tears over an animal.

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, uh, I should get back." He turned to walk back to the Impala.

"Wait!" Jenna called taking a step toward him, still cradling the dog in her arms. "Thank you, Dean. Really, I don't know what I would've done if-"

"Don't worry about it." Dean interrupted, "It's the least I could do after all you've done for MJ."

They just smiled at each other for a moment, neither saying anything until Dean couldn't stand the silence any longer.

"Well, I really should-"

"Why don't you come in? Just for a minute, have a cup of coffee. Please, it's the least I can do."

* * *

><p>Dean sat on Jenna's couch, scanning the small room, taking it all in while he waited for her to return. She had gone to pen Kinzie, after quickly realizing the dog was simply not going to calm down for a while. When the dog had nipped at her owner's feet while she was making the coffee, Jenna had scolded her, without any real conviction and excused herself to take the dog upstairs. Dean quickly grew antsy while awaiting her return and stood, strolling around the room, looking over all of her photos. Jenna with a group of young women, all laughing, their martini glasses raised in front of them. Jenna in a graduation gown, with who he assumed were her parents flanking her, smiling proudly. Jenna with two young blonde girls, hugging them close. Her nieces, maybe? Dean felt a pang of jealousy in his stomach that he quickly pushed away as he came across a photo on an end table near the stairs. This one contained a smiling Jenna, lounging on the beach, the arm of a man draped over her shoulder. She looked happy. He studied the man's face, noting his reluctant smile and wondering how anyone could feel less than ecstatic to have his arm around Jenna.<p>

"That's Jarred. My ex." Jenna said as she made her way down the stairs. Dean turned at the sound of her voice. "It's weird that I keep the photo out, right?" She asked.

Dean shrugged. "I'm really not an expert on normal."

Dean followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the kitchen table while she poured the coffee.

"My roommate, Tiffany, wanted to burn that photo after we broke up." She laughed as she brought the cups of coffee to the table. "She wanted to burn all of his belongings, too." She shrugged, taking a seat across from him at the table. "What would that prove? Besides, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of the picture. It's not every day my hair looks that good." She grinned, bringing her mug to her lips.

"So, this Jarred, why did you think he had something to do with your dog being taken?" Dean asked.

She just looked at him for a moment before heaving a huge sigh and standing up. She strolled to the cupboards and pulled out a big bottle of Irish Crème. "If we're going to have _that_ conversation," she said, opening the bottle and pouring a liberal amount in each of their cups. "then we're gonna need to Irish these up." She said with a grin.

Dean smiled back at her. "Well, hey, it's 5 o'clock somewhere."

She sat back down, taking a large sip of her coffee. "Perfect." She muttered before looking back up at Dean. "I broke up with Jarred two months ago after I found out he was cheating on me with one of my co-workers. He had been living here, and had just lost his job, so when I kicked his ass out, he had to move back in with his parents. He was none too thrilled with that. He kept apologizing and begging me to take him back, I think mostly because he didn't want to live at home anymore." She paused to take another swig. "Anyway, when the begging didn't work, he got mad and accused me of replacing him, moving another guy in here, which I found hilarious since _he_ was the one who cheated. I guess he decided he needed to keep tabs on me because I caught him watching the house last week from his car. He parked across the street and thought I wouldn't see him. Moron."

She looked up at Dean, blush creeping up her cheeks. "Jesus, listen to me," she said, setting her cup down on the table. "Do I sound bitter or what? I'm sure you wanted to hear all that."

Dean shook his head. "No, it's okay. I asked. So you thought maybe he stole the dog to try and force your hand?"

Jenna shrugged again. "Who the hell knows. He's clearly not mentally stable. It's just the first place my mind went when it happened. I was obviously wrong." It was quiet for a few moments while they both drank their coffee. "So who _did_ take her? And why?"

"Oh, uh," Dean silently scolded himself for not thinking to come up with a cover story on his way here. "Just some yahoos who were stealing dogs and selling them. Idiots, really. We took care of them."

She studied his face for a long time. Dean shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"Well thanks for that." She said finally. "I owe you one."

"You know," Dean said, straightening in his seat and leaning across the table. "Not that I mind, but why _did_ you call me? I mean, with your job, you must have cop friends. Why not just call in a favor from one of them?"

Jenna sat very still, just staring at Dean. Then she abruptly stood and without a word, gathered up their coffee cups, placing them in the sink. Her expression gave nothing away, and Dean was just beginning to wonder if he had offended her when she turned back to the table holding a bottle of Jack Daniels and two glasses.

She sat back down without a word, pulled her long, dark hair back in a ponytail, and set to work pouring them both glasses of whiskey. She slid a glass across the table toward him, eyeing him expectantly.

Dean got the impression she was waiting for him to push the glass back toward her and walk out. He met her gaze and lifted his glass, holding it out in front of him, waiting for her to raise her own. Jenna gave a small smile as she clinked her glass with Dean's, taking a long pull before setting the glass down and sighing. She slouched in her chair, and Dean found himself mesmerized by the way she drew her tongue along her upper lip.

"What was your first impression of me, Dean?" She asked, making Dean finally pry his eyes away from her lips and look up.

He cleared his throat. "I thought you were tough. Somebody people know not to mess with." Dean responded honestly.

She lifted her glass again, pointing a finger at him. "Exactly." She took another sip, driving Dean toward madness with another swipe of her tongue over her upper lip. "I have to be a hard ass, 24/7. It's how I'm good at my job. It's what people expect and it's how I'm able to get what I need, when I need it. If I call my connections at Chicago PD and show emotion…ask for help with something personal, it undoes five years of making a name for myself." She took another drink and shrugged. "I don't really care what people think of me, that's not what it's about. But I do care about making kids safe. And the best way I can do that is for Judges, cops, attorneys and anyone else in a position to help these kids to see me as a persistent, relentless, overbearing nag who will stop at nothing to get what she needs."

"So you're a bitch?" Dean asked without missing a beat.

Jenna nodded, sliding her glass back and forth across the table between her palms. "I'm a bitch." She said, not looking up.

Dean watched her for a moment. She chewed her lip, her eyes on her glass as she slid it back and forth. She spoke as if her reputation didn't bother her. That it was truly what she wanted, but Dean could see beyond her words. He found he could read this woman like a book, and right now he was getting the message loud and clear: She wasn't a bitch at all. She had a heart of gold and it was killing her to have to pretend she didn't care. To be strong all the time for the sake of those around her. He stood and spun his chair around, pulling it around the table and placing it close to her side. Then he sat, straddling the chair, his face inches from hers.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret." He started, leaning in closer. She finally looked up at him, her honey colored eyes boring into his. "I'm a bitch, too."

She grinned, shaking her head, looking back down at her hands. "Something tells me that 'bitch' is the last word that comes to mind when you get through with someone."

Dean shook his head. "Maybe not that word, but uh, I get what you mean. You gotta put on the brave face, act like none of it bothers you." She slowly looked back up at him. Dean leaned in closer. He could smell her perfume, or maybe shampoo, lavender and lemons. He was surprised at himself for being able to place it. He breathed it in, before continuing, barely more than a whisper. "Be brave for all of them. Protect them no matter what."

She nodded, the movement bringing her face closer to his.

Without consciously deciding to do so, Dean found himself closing the small distance between them. He breathed, "You're not a bitch," just before his mouth found hers, pulling her into a tentative kiss.

Dean kept his hands firmly on the back of his chair, until Jenna gave a small, satisfied sigh into his mouth. Elated and encouraged Dean deepened the kiss, running the tip of his tongue over her upper lip, tracing the movement she had made with her own tongue, and placing a hand at the back of her head, gently gripping her hair. Their tongues met, fighting for dominance as Jenna placed her hands on either side of Dean's neck.

Dean was silently cursing the chair back between them, making it impossible for them to get any closer…

_It's Raining Men! Hallelujah! - It's Raining Men! Amen!  
>I'm gonna go out to run and let myself get<br>Absolutely soaking wet!  
>It's Raining Men! Hallelujah!<br>It's Raining Men! Every Specimen!  
>Tall, blonde, dark and lean<br>Rough and tough and strong and mean_

They pulled apart quickly when the ringing sounded from Dean's coat pocket, Dean dropping his head forward, his eyes on the floor. Jenna leaned into him, her forehead meeting his and resting there as she laughed quietly, her hands still resting on his neck.

"MJ?" Jenna asked.

Dean looked up, pulling back from her. He nodded as he took hold of her hands, pulling them away from him and placing them at her side. When she met his gaze, she knew the moment was over and that he was leaving.

"Jenna, look uh-"

She shook her head. "It's fine, Dean. I get it."

"It's just- Mary Jane. I can't risk losing her. If we…and someone found out, how would that look?" He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep breath. "I can't lose her, Jenna."

"I know." She said sincerely, smiling sadly at him.

He stood reluctantly, returning his chair to its original position on the other side of the table. "Thanks." He said, gesturing toward the table.

Jenna stood, smoothing her hair back. She grinned. "Yeah, anytime you want a drink at 8:30 in the morning you know who to call." She muttered.

"Hey, if the occasion calls for it…" Dean said somewhat awkwardly as he made his way to the door, Jenna a step behind him. She pulled the front door open, smiling up at him as he walked out.

"Thank you, Dean. It means a lot, what you did for me."

Dean turned to face her, standing on the porch. "Any time." He turned and descended the steps before turning back once more. "And I meant what I said. You are not a bitch. Far from it." He gave her his patented smile before making his way to his car. She watched him until the Impala disappeared from sight.

* * *

><p>Dean walked into the motel room, tossing his keys down on the table and pulling off his jacket. Sam was standing near the bathroom and MJ was sitting at the small table by the door. Both looked up at Dean when he entered.<p>

"Which one of you jokers thought they were being funny messing with my phone again, huh?" He asked, looking between them. When neither of them answered him, taking credit for the ringtone, he looked more closely at his siblings. MJ was sitting ram rod straight in her chair. Her face was flushed and her eyes were swimming with unshed tears. Sam looked apprehensive, standing awkwardly outside of the bathroom door, which Dean noticed was closed.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, making his way toward Sam. The sound of the toilet flushing made him stop in his tracks. "Who's in the bathroom?" He asked reaching into his waistband for his gun.

The bathroom door swung open and John strolled out, stopping short when he spotted Dean.

"Hello, son."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Okay, so mixed reviews on miss Jenna...do you not like her, or do you not like her _with Dean_? I'm curious. If you would rather private message than post your opinion of her in a review, have at it! Thanks so much for sticking with this story. I know the updates are sporadic, but, hey, I try. Enjoy!**

John nodded toward Dean by way of greeting before pulling him into a quick, awkward hug. He pulled off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair before sitting down with a huff next to MJ. MJ didn't look up at him, and Dean saw her try to discreetly wipe the tears from her eyes.

Dean slowly made his way toward John, tucking his gun back into his waistband at the small of his back. "Dad, what are you- I mean we've been looking for you."

"I know." John said looking up at his eldest son, "It wasn't safe to make contact with you."

"Meg." Dean said realizing that John was here because her plan to lure him in had worked. "Dad, it was a trap. I didn't know, I'm sorry."

John shook his head. "It's alright. I thought it might've been."

Dean sat down on the edge of the bed, facing his father. "Were you there?"

"Yeah, I got there just in time to see the girl take the swan dive. She was the bad guy, right?"

"Yes, sir." Dean and Sam answered in unison. Dean glanced over at Sam, who had moved closer to them, but hadn't relaxed his stance at all.

"Good. Well, it doesn't surprise me. It's tried to stop me before."

Sam took another step toward his father. "The demon?" He asked breathlessly.

John nodded. "It knows I'm close. It knows I'm gonna kill it. Not just exorcise it or send it back to hell—actually kill it."

Dean sat up straighter. "How?" As far as he knew, there was no way to actually _kill_ a demon.

John gave a small smile. "I'm working on it." He sat back with a sigh and turned toward MJ. "Mary Jane, I'm so sorry about what happened. If I had known Wendy had taken off I would've been here in a heartbeat." He reached out, placing a hand on her cheek. "You should've called me."

She nodded, pulling back from his touch and quickly wiping away another tear that threatened to fall. Dean frowned at the sight. You didn't cry in front of John Winchester. That was a simple fact of Sam and Dean's childhood. Dean had long ago accepted it, but seeing MJ try so hard not to break that rule angered him. He watched MJ closely, wondering what she must be feeling, finally seeing her father after being seemingly abandoned by him for months.

"I'm gonna make it up to you." John continued, as if reading Dean's thoughts. "Tomorrow morning I'm going to the Courthouse to get legal custody of you."

"What?" All three siblings asked in unison, voices laced with disbelief.

John looked to Dean when he answered. "I'm grateful for what you did, Dean, taking care of her. But this is no life for a teenage girl. I've made other arrangements." He turned back to MJ, his strained smile not reaching his eyes. "You'll be safe. I promise."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Sam asked, now standing right in front of John, staring daggers at him.

Dean stood, taking up position next to Sam, closing ranks on John. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Other arrangements? What does that mean?"

John stood in front of his sons. MJ stayed seated, mostly because she didn't trust her legs to hold her. She said nothing, but they all knew she was listening intently.

John hesitated before answering. "A friend of a friend is going to take MJ in for the next few years. I'll retain legal custody, but she'll live with them. I spoke to an attorney. He's going to set up a meeting with the Judge tomorrow to finalize things. It's for the best, boys." He said looking between Sam and Dean. "And it's non-negotiable."

Dean couldn't help but think that everything John was saying sounded oddly…rehearsed. Like lines being delivered by a mediocre actor.

No one spoke. John looked determinedly at Sam and Dean, although there was no way he didn't notice MJ practically crumble at the table, unable to hold back the sobs any longer. She didn't look up, at any of them.

Dean stared at his father, feeling as if his two strongest instincts were doing battle in his head. It went against his nature to question his father's decisions. Sam may have balked at an order from time to time, but not Dean. He obeyed. Always. But in the past 7 months Dean's purpose in life was taking care of MJ and that meant keeping her close no matter what John said. Dean had never felt so conflicted in all his life. He turned to Sam who didn't look at all conflicted. In fact, the death glare he was sending John's way pretty much said that he was going to have no problem at all defying this particular order.

Dean turned back to John. "_Friend of a friend_?" He asked skeptically.

"They're good people, Dean. She'll be safe there."

"Over my dead body." Sam said slowly, his eyes deadly.

"Excuse me?" John said, turning toward Sam.

"You heard me. It's not gonna happen."

"Sam-" Dean said.

"No, Dean." Sam said before turning back to face his father. "You waltz in here after seven months of us searching for you! Seven months of taking care of MJ, and you think you're just gonna take her from us and dump her with some strangers?" Sam shook his head, eyes still boring into his father's. "No."

John held Sam's gaze. "Mary Jane is _my_ daughter, Sam and I will decide what's best for her, and _this_ is what's best for her. Not traipsing around the country with two grown men, living out of motel rooms and hunting monsters!"

Sam let out a humorless laugh. "Yeah, 'cause you were so concerned with her quality of life before. Did you know how she was living, Dad? How could you leave her with that piece of trash Wendy and just turn your back on her?" Sam was shouting now, his face inches from John's. "What makes you think you have the right to come in here now and act like a parent?"

John grabbed onto Sam's collar. "You watch your tongue, young man!"

Dean shoved himself between them, pushing them apart. "Sammy, that's enough!" Dean said before turning to his father. "Dad, I understand why you're doing this."

Sam opened his mouth, no doubt to let Dean have it for siding with John, but was cut off by Dean as he continued.

"But you are dead wrong."

John stared at him for a moment. "I beg your pardon?"

Dean shook his head vehemently. "You're wrong." He repeated. "You want to keep her safe, you leave her with us. It's the only way."

John shook his head, taking a few steps away from Dean. "No, Dean. She needs to be away from all of this. Far away."

"Dad." Dean said, his jaw set and eyes hard as he stared down his father. "I'm not gonna let you take her."

John sighed loudly. "Dean, you don't understand."

"Well, then explain it to me, Dad! What the hell has got you so worried you want to send your own daughter off to live with strangers?"

John looked long and hard at Dean. His expression shifted from frustrated to determined, as if he had been struggling with something and finally decided how to proceed. "Look, Dean, the fact is that you can't keep her safe. You tried and you failed."

Dean looked at his father in shocked anger.

"You think I don't know about all of it? The drug dealer?" John took a step toward Dean. "McWhorter?" He shook his head. "She hasn't been in school. You're too soft on her. You let her get away with murder and because of that she's gotten herself into trouble. Well it ends now."

Dean's brows furrowed. "How did you-"

"It doesn't matter. The point is she's in danger when she's with you and you know it." John gathered up his jacket. "It's done. She goes with me tomorrow and that's final."

"No." Her voice was so small when she uttered that one word, but the three men reacted as if she had screamed it at the top of her lungs. All eyes turned to her, still sitting at the table, looking down at her hands, fumbling with the strings of her sweatshirt.

"Mary Jane?" John questioned, taking a step in her direction.

She finally looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. She looked her father in the eye and took a shaky breath. "I said no. I won't go with you, Dad. You can't make me."

John took a step toward her, tossing the jacket down and taking a deep breath, his jaw set in anger. "You wanna bet?"

"Dad." Dean warned, taking up position between his father and sister.

MJ stood, but stayed beside the table, Dean creating a barrier between her and her father. "For the record, Dad, I _did_ call you. I called you the minute CPS came to my door." Her breath hitched as she choked back a sob. "I called you first, Dad." She said, clearly hurt. "And you didn't answer. You never answered. Maybe if you had you would've known she split." She roughly wiped at the tears on her face with the back of her hands. "You didn't answer your phone," she repeated, "so then I called Dean. And guess what? He picked up the phone. He dropped everything and he came for me. He took care of me when _you_ couldn't be bothered, so don't you dare accuse him of not keeping me safe. You don't have the right."

John was obviously thrown by her speech. He stared at her for a long moment before shaking his head and looking at her determinedly. "Mary Jane, you don't understand. This is only about keeping you safe. Please, you have to trust me. This is for your own good."

MJ crossed her arms, standing her ground, eyes on her father. "You'll have to drag me out of here kicking and screaming."

John took a step toward her, anger flashing in his eyes. "You think I won't, little girl?" He all but growled.

Dean placed a restraining hand on his father's chest. "Dad, enough."

Sam stepped forward, standing beside Dean.

John's eyes shifted between his three children, looking torn. When he finally spoke it was in a much calmer tone.

"Dean, I need to talk to you outside." He said turning and snatching up his jacket before heading quickly out the door.

Dean gave Sam a meaningful look. Sam looked torn, clearly wanting to hear what John had to say, get his questions answered, but he nodded his agreement to Dean, closing the distance between himself and MJ. He placed his arm around her shoulders, steering her toward the bed as Dean followed his father outside.

Dean found John pacing quickly in front of the motel room. He looked up at Dean when the younger man stepped outside, closing the door behind him. Dean saw that the anger on his father's face was gone, replaced by a look of profound frustration…and something else Dean couldn't quite place.

"You let her talk to you like that, Dean?" John asked. "You weren't raised liked that. You need to make her show respect." He snapped, not slowing his pacing at all.

Dean crossed his arms, following his father's movement with his eyes. "Seriously, Dad? She's plenty respectful. She's upset right now and with good reason. I'm not gonna scold her for that."

John was shaking his head. "Just having her with you makes you guys vulnerable. You're too focused on her safety to be on your best game."

Dean took a deep breath. "That's a load of crap and you know it. If anything I'm more cautious and alert with her around. Sammy, too. We have to be."

"She should be in a normal home, Dean."

Dean scoffed. "What's normal, Dad?" He moved forward, stepping into John's path, forcing him to halt his pacing. "Forget normal." He said meeting his father's eyes. "She belongs with her family. All of us."

John didn't respond. He looked down, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

Dean continued, allowing just a smidge of hope to work its way into his voice. "Come on, Dad. Come with us. Forget about these _normal_ people and we can all stay together. MJ needs you." He lowered his voice, swallowing hard. "I need you."

John looked up, not quite looking Dean in the eye. "I can't, Dean. It's not safe for me to be around you kids." John turned his back to Dean, taking a couple steps toward the parking lot. "You saw what happened yesterday. If he knew I was with you, he would use you against me. I can't have that."

"Dad,"

"No, Dean. I won't do it."

Neither spoke for a moment. John still didn't turn around, gazing out over the parked cars.

Dean sighed, not sure what else to say to convince his father that he couldn't snatch MJ away from him. He wasn't coming up with any brilliant arguments, so instead he asked a question that had been plaguing him since the argument started inside.

"How did you know about McWhorter? Or the drug dealer?"

John turned around slowly, facing Dean. He ran a hand through his hair. "I've been talking to Bobby."

Dean's jaw clenched making the muscle in his face twitch. "He didn't tell me."

"I asked him not to." John said simply.

Dean pushed his frustration and anger aside, knowing now was not the time. Besides, John had only answered half of his question. "Bobby didn't know about Biz." Dean said, saying the name as if it were a dirty word.

John shrugged. "I've been in Chicago since you guys got here. I've been keeping tabs on you."

Dean considered his father curiously. "Why?"

John didn't answer, and Dean was finally able to place the emotion dominant in his father's eyes: fear.

Dean took a step toward his father, determined to know the truth. "Dad, what is going on? What are you afraid of?"

John took another step closer to Dean and looked around carefully, as if he were expecting eavesdroppers to be hidden amongst the parked cars. He leaned toward his son, lowering his voice. "There might be someone…something after Mary Jane."

"What? What kind of something?" Dean practically shouted.

John gestured for him to keep his voice down. "I don't know, a demon maybe. All I know is I'm not taking any chances, Dean."

"What makes you think something is after her?" Dean asked, glancing at the motel room door, glad Sammy had stayed inside with MJ, that she wasn't by herself.

"Wendy called me freaking out. She said she had to take off because something evil wanted Mary Jane and was going to use Wendy to get to her."

"You've been talking to Wendy?" Dean asked, shocked. He wondered how many more bombs his father could drop on him in one night.

John nodded. "She tracked me down about a month ago. She was petrified. Wouldn't tell me where she was, just kept saying that she needed to be far away from Mary Jane."

Dean shook his head. "How do you know she wasn't just high out of her mind and hallucinating?"

"She was lucid, Dean and she was scared as hell." He took a deep breath. "She said he came to her once before and told her that he'd be back someday for Mary Jane."

"_He_? Who-or what is it?"

The fear in John's eyes seemed to intensify. "All she said was he was mean as hell, he wanted Mary Jane and his eyes…his eyes were pitch black."

Dean turned away, running a hand over his face. "Christ." He spat before turning back to his father. "Do you think it's connected to _the_ demon? Maybe another trap to lure you in like with Meg?"

"I don't know, Dean. All I know for sure is that I need to keep her safe and for me to do that she needs to be as far removed as possible from this life."

"Dad you know as well as I do if this thing wants her it's not gonna make a bit of difference where you hide her, it'll find her. Her only hope is to be with people who are ready for it and know how to fight it. Not some civilians who'll piss their pants and run at the first sign of something supernatural." Dean shook his head, pointing toward the motel room and MJ. "If you send her off with these people, unprotected, she doesn't stand a chance."

Dean could see his logic was working on his father. He was coming around and Dean hurriedly continued while he had a chance at winning this.

"If she stays with us, you know we can keep her safe. This thing won't get anywhere near her."

John was frowning at Dean, and the fear was still there, etched onto his face, but Dean could see that he had been persuaded. "You'd better keep closer tabs on her, Dean. And no more running wild. Part of keeping her safe is limiting her freedom."

Dean nodded quickly. "Yes, sir."

"And you need to get the hell out of Chicago. Tonight."

"You got it."

John heaved a deep sigh of frustration. "I'm not thrilled with this, Dean."

"I know, Dad. But you gotta trust me. This is the right decision."

"We'll see." John turned, heading back toward the motel room.

"Wait, Dad." Dean called to him, making John stop in his tracks and turn back.

"You have to call us if you find anything out about this…demon or whatever it is."

John pointed a stern finger at Dean. "Don't you go looking for this thing, you hear me? Your job is to keep her far away from it, not hunt it down, ya got me?"

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not gonna go after it, but if it comes after us, the more we know the easier it will be to fight it." Dean reasoned.

"I'll get in touch with you if there's something you need to know." John turned back toward the room and again Dean called out, stopping him.

"What was going on before I got here tonight? Why were Sammy and MJ so nervous and upset?" Dean hadn't planned on asking John that question. He had intended to wait until he was alone with Sam to find out what that was all about. For some reason his mouth wasn't in agreement with his brain on that one, and the words had just spilled out before he could stop them.

John gave his son a small smile. "You know those two. They can read people far too well. I think they had an idea of why I was here before I'd even opened my mouth." The smile was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "She's really attached to you, Dean." He looked ashamed, not meeting Dean's eyes. "I think you're the first person who's ever really taken care of her." He kept his eyes cast downward as he made his way back inside.


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: This one's a bit heavy. What can I say? Dram, drama, drama...sigh. I hope you enjoy it. I'm going on vacation Monday, so this is probably the last update for a little while. I get back a week from tomorrow and plan to jump right back in. Until then...**

MJ felt sick to her stomach, sitting beside Sam on the motel bed, unable to speak despite the hundred or so half formed thoughts floating around in her head. Sam must have been absorbed in his own thoughts, because he seemed content to let her sit in silence. She was grateful to him for not forcing her to talk about how she was feeling, which was usually the "Sam way". Sam normally pulled it all out of her while Dean preferred that she kept it all inside. And John-well she could really only guess at that since she'd never spent more than a random day here and there with her father in her entire life. Even then it was never just the two of them. Dean and Sam were there, too. It had never struck her as odd. She had never felt like she was missing out on anything, until this moment now. She felt…cheated that she didn't even know her father. Not really. If Wendy never came back…if John was the only parent she had now…

The door opened, interrupting her disturbing thoughts. John walked in first, sparing MJ and Sam the briefest of glances before grabbing his journal off the nightstand and sitting down at the table with it. Dean entered behind him and looked to Sam, silently telling him the news. MJ didn't need to hear the words. She knew from the softness of Dean's eyes and the way Sam's body relaxed noticeably next to her that John had relented. She was staying. She breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

John looked up from the journal after a few moments, fixing MJ with a stern look. "Mary Jane, you're going to stay with your brothers." He said unnecessarily. MJ nodded anyway, letting him know she was listening. "For now." He pointed a finger at her. "And things are going to be _very_ different." He qualified. "You're gonna keep up on your schoolwork, stay out of trouble, and no more screwing around." He finished in a tone that left no room for argument.

MJ didn't respond, knowing there was no need. This was a straight forward order and she would follow it without question or complaint. Sam apparently had other ideas.

"And what about you, Dad?" Sam asked not quite meeting John's eye, his shoulders tensing and the arm draped over MJ's neck stiffening.

John's eyes flicked to Sam before he returned his attention to the journal. "What _about_ me?"

That was all Sam needed to hear. He stood quickly taking a step toward his father. "You're going after it aren't you? You're going after it without us. Without me." Sam said disgusted.

"Sam, you can't go with me, no one can." John stood. "You guys can't be with me. Even me being here is risky. To hunt together…no." He said with a shake of his head.

"That's bull, Dad!" Sam shouted, taking another step.

"Hey!" Dean yelled taking up what MJ now realized was his usual position, standing between his father and brother. He placed a hand on both their chests before turning to MJ. "Why don't you go shower and change? We're leaving soon."

MJ obeyed immediately; glad to have an excuse to get out of the room. She turned the shower on as soon as she had closed the bathroom door, trying to drown out the shouting.

* * *

><p>When MJ emerged from the bathroom nearly an hour later, the yelling had subsided into a tense silence. Sam was on his laptop, carefully avoiding his father's occasional gaze in his direction. John seemed to have only stuck around so he could say goodbye to her, and after a quick hug with MJ and a handshake with his sons, he walked out without so much as a backward glance.<p>

They were all silent for several minutes, the only sound Sam clacking away at the keyboard, until Dean cautiously approached him. "You gotta try and see it his way, Sammy."

"No, Dean, I don't. Just drop it." Sam snapped, not looking up.

Dean put his hands up in surrender. "Fine." He grabbed his jacket and keys off the table. "I'm gonna go grab some dinner, gas up the Impala. MJ, you wanna ride along?"

MJ shook her head. "No, thanks." She answered quietly.

He shrugged and headed to the door, but stopped with his hand on the knob, looking back at his sister. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She snapped.

"Fine. Be ready to go when I get back." Dean left, mumbling something about pain in the ass younger siblings.

MJ flipped on the TV, absently scanning through the channels, not really looking for anything. She noticed Sam was getting more and more agitated as time went by. About twenty minutes after Dean left, Sam abruptly snapped the computer closed and stood. "I'm going for a run." He announced, heading into the bathroom and quickly changing. He emerged a minute later, grabbing his sneakers and hastily putting them on. "Stay inside 'til Dean gets back." He said and walked out the door.

MJ packed all of their bags, neatly folding her clothes while she thought about John's grand plan. She had nearly gotten sick when he insisted she was going to live with random strangers. She tried to focus on the fact that Sam and Dean, at least, seemed to want her around and were willing to stand up to John to keep her with them. _Yeah, that's great, but why doesn't your actual father want to keep you_? That thought plagued her as she searched the bathroom for her toothbrush. She certainly hadn't chosen for Wendy to skip town. She had no control over that. And it wasn't like she had bothered John over the years like other kids did, begging their parents for money and cars and gifts. In fact, she had never asked John for a single thing her entire life. She rifled through her duffle, wondering if she had already packed the stupid toothbrush and forgotten… '_If I had known Wendy had taken off I would've been here in a heartbeat'. _She laughed bitterly to herself. _Yeah, right, Dad. That's real easy to say w__hen it's all said and done. _MJ began tearing the neatly folded garments out of the bag and tossing them aside. When the bag was empty and she still had no toothbrush, irrational anger and rage took over and she cocked her arm back and pounded her fist into the wall. The wall came out pretty much unscathed, but she definitely felt something snap in her hand and let out an involuntary whimper.

She held her injured hand close to her chest, her eyes swimming in tears as she looked around at the mess she'd made. That's when she spotted the denim skirt lying on the floor in a heap. It was short. Ridiculously short. She had packed everything she owned the day Jenna had shown up at her door, which hadn't been much. She had tossed most of it after Dean took her shopping, but she loved the skirt and couldn't part with it. The truth was, she knew her butt looked really good in it, so unbeknownst to Dean she had kept it hidden away in her duffle. It hadn't seen the light of day in months. She picked it up off the floor and held it up in front of her, admiring it.

"It's high time I put you to good use." She said aloud.

* * *

><p>Dean knew they could've easily grabbed dinner and gas once they were on the road, but he had needed some time on his own to process everything that had happened. He drove back toward the motel, trying hard to let go of his frustration and annoyance. He could understand his father's refusal to let them hunt the demon with him, but that didn't mean he liked it. Not only was he worried his father might do something reckless; he now had to endure Sam's extra bitchiness for the next God knows how long. He was also worried about how his father's sudden appearance and then quick departure would set MJ back. She had been doing pretty well all things considered. Something like this could really mess with the kid's head.<p>

More than anything else he was pissed as hell and scared out of his mind over the possibility that something was after MJ. He wanted to cling to the idea that Wendy was just drugged out of her gourd and talking nonsense, but when was it ever that easy for them? He felt like they were pushing their luck, staying in Chicago any longer. With that thought in mind Dean sped up, now regretting leaving Sam and MJ alone at the motel.

Dean got no response when he knocked at the room door. Cursing quietly, he juggled the take out containers in one hand, digging the room key from his pocket with the other, wondering where MJ and Sam went. He had told them they were leaving, he thought annoyed.

"Hey." Sam said coming up behind Dean, slightly out of breath and drenched in sweat. "You're just getting back now?"

"I had some stops to make." Dean said handing the containers to Sam so he could unlock the door.

"Why didn't you just knock?"

"I did." Dean's stomach dropped. He gave Sam a panicked look before hurriedly unlocking and opening the door. He quickly scanned the room, taking in the clothes strewn all over the floor. Retrieving his gun from his waistband, Dean rushed to the bathroom, saw it was empty, and looked at Sam. "Where the hell is she?"

Sam shook his head at a loss. "I told her to stay inside."

Dean picked up the empty, discarded duffle bag. "Why the hell would you leave her alone?" He shouted.

"Why not? She stays alone all the time." Sam defended.

"Yeah, well not anymore." Dean said, checking his gun before tucking it safely back in his jeans at the small of his back. "Let's move." He said walking quickly past Sam and back out the door.

* * *

><p>"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, after getting MJ's voicemail for the third time. He sped down the road, snapping the phone shut and tossing it aside.<p>

"Calm down, man, I'm sure she's fine."

"Fine? She's missing, Sammy. That's not fine!" Dean said, staring straight ahead, a death grip on the steering wheel.

"Dean, she probably just took off. I mean she was upset."

"Yeah, well who tossed her stuff? And why wasn't our shit messed with?" Dean feared the worst. Whatever was after MJ had found her…his father was right, he couldn't keep her safe. He had screwed up.

"Dean, pull in here!" Sam shouted suddenly, causing Dean to slam on the brakes and make a quick left into the parking lot of a seedy looking bar.

"Why here?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's the closest bar to the motel, and she was on foot." He reasoned.

"Why would she go to a place like this?" Dean asked. He wanted to find his sister, but not in a dump like this.

Dean grabbed another pistol from the trunk and handed it to Sam before heading toward the bar.

"Really?" Sam asked.

"I'm not taking any chances." Dean said, still walking quickly toward the bar. He noted half a dozen motorcycles parked close to the door. "Great." He said, his jaw clenching.

Dean walked through the door, scanning the crowd. The floor felt spongy under his feet and his shoes stuck with each step. Free Bird was playing on the Jukebox and every set of eyes in the place turned to stare at him when he walked in, closely followed by Sam. Dean was immediately aware that he and Sam were most likely not the only people in this place who were carrying weapons. The place was small and it took them only a matter of seconds to see MJ was not there. Dean would have been relieved not to come across his sister in this kind of place, if he wasn't so desperate to find her.

"She's not here." Sam said to him, sounding truly disappointed. Dean led them back toward the front door, glancing down a short hallway to the right of the bar where a door had just swung open. He felt several things at once when he saw MJ, wearing more make up than she was clothing, walk through the swinging door and stumble down the dimly lit hallway toward him, leaning on the grimy walls for support. Relief swept over him, quickly followed by shock at how she was dressed, and then rage at seeing she was clearly drunk. MJ stopped as she reached the bar, grabbing onto the edge to keep from falling over. She looked up, locking eyes with Dean. Dean saw a single tear slide down her face, a look of true devastation marring her features. He started to approach her, and stopped when he glanced again at the door she had come from. It was clearly marked "Men". He barely had time to process that before the door swung open once more and a man with a buzz cut, wearing a flannel and jeans made his way down the hallway. He was short, but built and he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face as he walked first past MJ, then Dean and Sam. Dean watched him approach a group of men. He nudged a younger looking guy to get his attention before leaning in close and whispering something in his ear. The other guy looked toward the bar, directly at MJ before breaking out in the same stupid smirk as his buddy. He looked impressed as he patted his friend on the back. Then the guy with the buzz cut got another guy's attention, this time openly pointing at MJ as he leaned in to talk to the man.

Dean had seen enough. He turned to Sam, who he saw was also watching all of this, a look of outrage on his face. "Take her to the car." Dean said to his brother. He walked away before Sam could argue. He grabbed an empty beer bottle off a table before approaching the group of men, who were now congratulating the guy with the buzz cut. Dean felt like he might explode with fury. He made a quick assessment of the group: There were four of them, two bigger, two smaller than him. Only one, the one with the buzz cut, looked like he might be any good in a fight on his best day, and right now he was drunk, as they all seemed to be. Dean knew that they were all most likely armed. Probably with knives, maybe even guns. He also knew he most likely would not come out of the fight unscathed, but he didn't care.

He took a deep breath as he drew level with the men, trying to play it cool.

"Dude." He said standing beside the man with the buzz cut, holding the empty bottle in front of him as if he were drinking it. "Were you just in the men's room with that red head?"

The man turned toward him, looking uncertain at first. After a moment, though he apparently couldn't resist sharing his conquest with yet another guy. His expression cleared and he leaned toward Dean, his smile broadening. "Oh, man what a firecracker. She looks young, but she ain't no good girl, 'cause shit if that weren't the best hummer I ever got."

The words had barely left the man's mouth before the bottle in Dean's hand made contact with his head. The man stumbled back, falling onto one of his friends, both of them landing on their asses on the filthy floor. Dean dropped the remnants of the now broken bottle as the other two men came at him.

Everything was a blur after that. Dean took a few fists to the face, busting open his lip. He got a couple shots in, although he didn't know who was on the receiving end. All the men were wearing flannel, and in the melee it was impossible to tell who was who. At some point Sam had come back inside and was fighting beside him. Somehow, two of the men ended up on the floor, and seemed to be either too drunk or injured-or a combination of the two- to get back up. Sam had the third man in a head lock. This left the man with the buzz cut for Dean, which suited Dean just fine. The man had a trickle of blood running down the side of his face, from where the bottle had made contact. He growled at Dean as he lunged forward toward him. Dean stepped to the side and grabbed the man by the arm, spinning him around and slamming his fist into his jaw. Dean didn't see the blade in the man's hand until he had swung his arm blindly toward Dean, catching Dean's left arm, leaving a neat slice across his bicep. Dean felt the searing pain, white hot in his upper arm, but didn't hesitate. He grabbed hold of the back of other man's collar, and slammed his face into the nearest table. The man crumpled into a heap at Dean's feet.

Dean looked down at the unmoving form on the floor, intent on giving him a solid kick to the stomach when Sam grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled him away.

"Dean, we gotta get out of here. Now." Sam said urgently, leading them to the front door amidst stares from the other patrons. Dean thought that this must not be so unusual for this place, since the faces staring at them wore looks of only mild interest. Dean threw one last glance over his shoulder, and was satisfied to see that the man was still lying on the floor, unmoving.

* * *

><p>MJ stared at the floor, her arms crossed in front of her, tears streaming silently down her face. The comfort that she had felt during the ride back to the motel, Sam beside her, holding her close and wiping away her tears, was gone when they arrived at the room, dissipating when she sensed the tension and anger coming off of Dean. This was the reaction she had anticipated. She was ready for it, could deal with it. What hurt like a punch to the gut was the look she had caught on Sam's face before casting her eyes downward. It was unmistakable, unadulterated disappointment. She didn't dare look back up at them. One glance at their faces was enough. She would never forget those looks as long as she lived.<p>

"You went to a bar alone, and escorted a complete stranger to the men's room?" Dean asked, standing over her, his arms crossed and his body rigid.

MJ made no response, still not looking up. Dean continued.

"And you had sex with him?" Dean's voice broke on the last word.

MJ's head shot up. "No!" She shouted, tears still flowing. "I didn't have sex with him!"

Dean took a step toward her, looking down at her. "Well what did you do then?"

MJ lowered her gaze back to the stained carpet. "Nothing."

"No, no. You didn't go in there to discuss politics. What were you doing, Mary Jane?"

"I don't want to say," she muttered quietly.

"What did you do!" Dean screamed.

MJ fixed him with a hateful glare.

"I blew him, okay?" she matched his volume, but couldn't infuse her voice with the anger Dean's exuded.

Dean's eyes went wide and Sam looked over at her with a look of total disbelief on his face.

No one spoke for a while until Sammy broke the silence. "Mary Jane." He whispered.

MJ thought the disgust in his voice might be enough to kill her.

Dean moved even closer to her, their toes now touching as he finally regained enough control to speak.

"What is _wrong _with you? How could you be so careless? Are you that fucking stupid?" He spoke in a deadly whisper.

Sam sat up straight, eyeing his brother warily. "Dean." He said sharply.

"I mean come on, that's pathetic and disgusting. Is that how your mother raised you? Going down on guys twice your age in public bathrooms?"

MJ was sobbing uncontrollably now, practically gasping for breath. Sam stood. "Dean, that's enough." He said taking a tentative step forward.

"Shit, if you're gonna give it up you might as well make some money doing it. You can join the family business and be a two bit whore just like your mother!" Dean spat, venom in his voice.

MJ stood, intent on pounding on Dean, no matter how little damage she could do. But before she was even on her feet, Sam had launched himself at his brother and knocked him to the floor. They wrestled around momentarily, MJ staring down at them in disbelief. After a few seconds Sam overtook Dean and straddling his waist, landed a hard right to Dean's jaw. Sam then stood, pointing a finger down at Dean, his breathing fast.

"Don't you _ever_ talk to my sister like that again." He said evenly.

Dean just looked back up at him, wiping the blood off his face with the back of his hand. He sat up slowly, before kneeling and then getting painfully to his feet.

"_Your_ sister, huh?" He asked.

Sam moved toward MJ, standing in front of her, nearly succeeding in blocking her from Dean's view.

"Yeah, that's right. _My_ sister. Now get the fuck out of here."

"Oh, come on, Sammy, you can't be serious!" Dean shouted at his brother, taking a step toward Sam and MJ.

Sam shifted slightly, blocking Dean from getting to MJ.

"Get out, Dean." He answered calmly.

* * *

><p>Dean sat on a park bench, half empty fifth of Jack in his hand. He stared off into the night, his thoughts racing. No matter where his mind went it always came back around to the image of MJ on her knees…his stomach turned, the whiskey threatening to resurface.<p>

He heard the roar of the Impala's engine, but couldn't make himself look up. A few moments later he heard soft footsteps approaching him.

"Where's your bodyguard?" he asked sarcastically, knowing without looking up that MJ was standing a few yards away.

"Dean," she began brokenly, and it killed him to know he played any part in her hurting this much. "I'm so ashamed of myself. I have no excuse for what I did. It was a mistake," she sobbed and then took a deep breath trying in vain to control her voice. "And I wish I could take it back, but I can't. And I hate that you hate me. That _kills_ me, Dean. All I ever wanted was your respect and trust, and I know I ruined that by doing this. I deserve to be hated." She sniffed, taking another breath. "I just wanted to say that I'm sorry I let you down." She turned and walked quickly back toward the car.

Sam watched his sister hastily make her way back toward him, her body wracked with sobs. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, cursing Dean for being so stubborn. When MJ was about halfway to the car, Dean abruptly stood, tossing down his bottle and following quickly after MJ a look of rage plain on his face.

Sam quickly got out of the car, not wanting to believe his brother would actually hurt MJ, but not able to sit idly by and take the chance. Dean reached her first, spinning her around without a word. He held her at arm's length for a few seconds, before silently pulling her toward him and wrapping his arms around her.

When Sam reached them he took in the telltale moisture making its way down his brother's cheeks. MJ was crying freely into Dean's shoulder. Dean looked at Sam and without a word said he was sorry for being an ass. Sam nodded back his acceptance. It was then that Sam realized the look of rage on Dean's face was not directed toward MJ, but toward Dean himself.

* * *

><p>As he drove down the highway just east of Des Moines, Iowa, John wrestled with the desire to call Dean and make sure they had made it out of Chicago. He hated not knowing where they were, whether they were okay. But he also knew that any contact between them just made it easier for the demon to get to them. He thought about the careful half-truths he had told Dean, hoping he hadn't revealed too much. He didn't want to lie to them, but, really, until he knew the whole truth and could explain it to them he had no choice but to keep them in the dark.<p>

With a sigh he glanced down at Mary Jane's toothbrush, sitting on the seat beside him, and hoped to hell it gave him the answers he so desperately needed.


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N:** **I couldn't leave for vacation with everyone mad at Dean...so here's a little Dean redemption. Short and sweet, but it moves things forward and gets us ready for the next adventure. Next chapter starts a new case:) Enjoy!**

"Just so I'm clear," Sam began in a quiet voice. "Wendy called Dad and told him that something was after MJ, and that she had to leave her to keep her safe?"

Dean just nodded, looking down at the Impala from the balcony of their second floor motel room. Sam stood beside him, his back against the railing, arms crossed in front of him. Dean leaned further forward, allowing the railing to support most of his weight. Sam watched him closely. He looked tired. Dead tired. Sam had driven them out of Chicago after picking up Dean at the park. MJ had slept leaning against Dean in the back of the car for most of the four hour ride from Chicago. She was awake, but silent when they arrived at the motel, and quickly fell back to sleep once they were in the room. Once she was out, Sam and Dean had retreated to the balcony, leaving the sliding glass door open a crack. Dean had filled Sam in on everything John had told him before his hasty departure.

Sam glanced inside, through the glass door. He could make out MJ's profile in the bed closest to them, lying on her side, her back to them.

"And Dad thinks that _something_ is a demon?" Sam continued.

Dean nodded again before turning toward Sam. "Sure sounds like one."

Sam was quiet for a moment, struggling with believing any of this. "She's a crack head, Dean. Maybe she just imagined it."

"Believe me, Sammy, I thought about that. But what if she's telling the truth? We have to assume this is a real threat."

Sam let out a long, slow breath, running a hand through his hair. "We have to be more careful. Keep closer tabs on her." Sam said to himself, staring at MJ through the door. He turned to Dean, something else occurring to him, making him feel even more on edge. "Why the hell didn't you tell me this right away?"

Dean straightened up, leaning back against the rail. He threw his hands up. "I don't know. I was pissed and overwhelmed and…it was just so much all at once. I mean, just seeing him there when we didn't even know if he was-" Dean turned back around, looking out over the parking lot below. "I just needed some time to sort through it all, I guess."

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, well, if you had told me before I never would have left her alone, Dean." Sam said, irritation and anger clear in his voice. "She wouldn't have gone out and-"

Dean quickly turned taking a step toward Sam. "Don't you think I know that, Sammy?" He was close enough that Sam could see the bruise forming at his jawline and his slightly swollen lip. Only the latter was from the bar fight, the former, Sam had inflicted on him. Sam's eyes shifted to the right, not wanting the reminder of what happened earlier tonight that led him to hit his brother. His eyes landed on Dean's left arm, where the bandage Sam had put there was already soaking through with blood. It had needed stitches, but by the time Sam got to it, it was far too late. He had bandaged it up the best he could. Sam's irritation dissipated as Dean's gaze followed Sam's.

"You're bleeding." Sam said unnecessarily.

Dean took a step back, his right hand pressed against the bandaged wound. Sam watched his brother closely, as Dean sank down into one of the patio chairs. He looked down at his feet. "I keep thinking about that letter. The one McWhorter wrote?" Dean looked up at Sam who nodded. Dean took a deep breath and continued. "When Jenna read that to us, I thought 'No way I'd ever say something so awful to her, call her those names.'" He looked back down, a humorless chuckle falling from his lips. "And now here I am. I'm that guy." He looked up and Sam could see unshed tears shining in his eyes. "I went there, and Sammy I can _never_ take it back." He shook his head, clearly disgusted with himself.

Sam sat in the other chair, facing Dean. He made no response. He had been shocked and angry with Dean for saying such horrible things to their sister, but he knew, the moment it happened, that Dean would regret it instantly. That Dean would judge himself far more harshly than anyone else would.

Dean slammed his fist into the arm of the chair, before standing abruptly. "God! I was just…so pissed at her for putting herself in danger like that. Everything just boiled up inside me: Dad coming back and trying to take her, Wendy and this demon business, Biz…all of it and I just- I just went off."

Sam stayed quiet, letting his brother vent. When he seemed to be finished Sam cleared his throat.

"Do you know why I kicked you out of that motel room tonight, Dean?" Sam asked calmly.

"Because I deserved it." Dean answered matter-of-factly.

"Sam forged on as if he hadn't heard Dean. "Because I knew you'd regret what you said and I didn't want you to make it any worse for yourself." Sam stood, facing Dean. Dean was looking anywhere but at Sam as he spoke. "Dean, I was just as angry and disappointed with her as you were. But she knew before she did any of it that it was stupid and reckless. That was the point."

Dean's head snapped up and he locked eyes with Sam. "What? To get herself hurt?" Dean asked skeptically.

Sam nodded. "You just said yourself that you were pissed and overwhelmed after Dad showed up. Imagine how she was feeling, Dean. She didn't know how to deal with it so she tried to distract herself."

"With booze and random hook ups?" Dean asked, still not buying it.

Sam shrugged. "It's what she knows." He said quietly. He bit his lip, knowing there was no turning back now.

Dean took a step toward Sam. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" It was clearly an effort for him to keep his voice quiet.

Sam took a deep breath, knowing this conversation was long overdue, but wishing he could put it off indefinitely. "Dean, her life before she was with us, I think it was worse than she's letting on. Worse even than what Jenna or anyone else knows." Sam looked down, rubbing at his forehead before looking back up. "Worse than we could imagine."

"Worse how?" Dean asked quickly.

"Well for starters I think she lied to us last night about her mother trading her for drugs." Sam said. When Dean made no response, he continued. "Come on, man, we've been lying to ourselves. We've known for a while that she went through some horrible things that she's not telling us about. I mean, the nightmares, the shit that Biz said." Sam sat back down. "You saw firsthand the way she was living." Sam leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "We'd be stupid to think she skated through unscathed."

He didn't look up, but knew Dean was watching him closely. He knew this was uncomfortable for Dean, that his brother was content to go on pretending everything was fine, but if they did that, these kinds of things would just keep happening.

They were silent for a while, Dean standing with his back to Sam, gripping the balcony railing as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. When he finally spoke Sam could hear the tears in his voice. "This is what Jenna was trying to warn me about. When I first went to get MJ she showed me that shithole room so I would see just how bad things were for the kid." He took a deep breath, swallowing audibly before continuing. "But all I could think about was making sure she was in one piece. I thought if she was…_physically_ okay then everything would be fine. I didn't want to think about what she might have gone through…what the nightmares were about." He shook his head. "God, Sammy, there's times when she seems so…"

Sam got up from his chair and walked toward Dean, standing beside him. "Normal?" he suggested.

Dean hastily wiped the tears from his face, turning toward Sam. "How could a kid go through…all of that and come out on the other side able to function at all?"

"Because she's strong. She's a fighter. Hell, she's a Winchester. We can't function unless we're in crisis. She did what she had to do to survive."

Dean shook his head. "I just wanted so bad for her to be okay, ya know? I could've prevented all of this if I'd just been willing to see it."

Sam was shaking his head before Dean had finished speaking. "This isn't on you, man."

Dean stood up straight, turning and leaning on the railing, looking inside at a sleeping MJ. "Maybe not what happened, but what I said to her…that sure didn't help anything." He said, disgust evident in his voice. He grunted in frustration. "I didn't mean any of it, Sam. I was just pissed off."

"Dean," Sam said sharply, making Dean pry his eyes away from their sister and look over at him. "You're telling it to the wrong person, here."

* * *

><p>Dean woke early the following morning, his first conscious thought was that he should quickly get dressed and take off before his siblings awoke. He was dreading having this conversation with MJ. He and Sam had agreed last night that they had to confront her about everything this morning. <em>Great<em>. The only thing he could imagine being more awkward and uncomfortable would be trying to apologize to her for being a total asshole, and of course, he would have to do that, too. There was no way he could put it off. He felt horrible, but he really doubted anything he said to her would make it suck any less for either one of them.

Dean rolled over, finding Sam and MJ still fast asleep in the other bed, Sam's arm draped protectively over their sister. Dean's stomach clenched as the sight before him triggered the memory of last night. MJ had woken up crying and called out for Sam. That had never happened. She had always looked for Dean when she was frightened. Dean sat up, running a hand through his hair. He quietly made his way into the bathroom, showering and dressing quickly. When he emerged twenty minutes later, MJ was sitting up in bed, her hair sticking out around her face in every direction. She was yawning and rubbing her eyes, making her look ten-years-old again. She stretched her arms above her head, stopping short when she realized Dean was watching her. She dropped her arms quickly, averting her eyes.

Dean walked slowly toward her. "Where's Sammy?" he asked, retrieving his boots and sitting down on the other bed to put them on.

She shrugged. "Don't know. He was gone when I woke up." She said quietly, picking feathers from the down pillow, still not looking at Dean.

Dean finished putting on his boots, letting out a long breath as he stood and moved to her bed, sitting down next to her. "We need to talk." He said.

MJ looked up at him, but said nothing. Dean could see from the look on her face that she was feeling ashamed of herself, and scared of where this was going.

"MJ," He began, taking a deep breath. "I am so sorry for what I said to you last night. I was way out of line."

"No, Dean, it's okay. You were right." She said quietly, staring down at her hands, still picking feathers from the pillow.

Dean reached out, taking hold of her chin and pulling it up so she was looking at him. He left his hand there, cupping her face. "I was wrong, Mary Jane. You're not stupid or disgusting." He shook his head. "Or any of the other things I called you." He released his hold on her, taking her hand in his instead. "I am so mad at you for doing that to yourself…putting yourself in danger like that. But I don't hate you, MJ. I never could."

MJ made no response, staring down at their entwined hands.

"You have to talk to us, MJ. Tell us what happened when you were with Wendy. No more lies, understand? I know it's hard to talk about it, but it'll kill you if you don't."

MJ was crying freely now, tears rolling down her cheeks. She shook her head quickly. "I can't."

"You have to." Dean answered simply, but firmly. "I know you want to pretend it never happened, believe me I understand that. But you can't…_we_ can't keep doing that." Dean watched her closely waiting for her to respond. She was still crying, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly. She looked up at him, and Dean's heart broke at the look on her face. Defeat, anguish and shame were all there in equal measure.

"I don't know how to-" her voice hitched as she let out another sob. "I don't-" She tried again, and again couldn't get the words out.

"Did you lie about Wendy trading you for drugs?" Dean asked evenly, not an accusation, just a question.

She made no response for several moments, wiping the tears from her cheeks. Eventually, she gave a quick nod. That one quick movement made Dean feel instantly sick to his stomach. "Twice." She said, barely more than a whisper.

Dean's jaw was clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. He knew he couldn't go ballistic. He had to stay calm so she wouldn't clam up again. He took a deep breath. "What did they do?" He couldn't keep the outrage and disgust from his voice, try as he might.

She pulled her hand from his, wrapping her arms around herself. "Dean, please." She begged.

"MJ, I don't want to hear it any more than you want to say it, but you have to tell me." She stayed quiet, hanging her head, her eyes on the floor. He tried to be patient, but after a minute or more of silence he couldn't take it anymore. "Mary Jane." He prompted.

She took a breath, releasing it slowly. "We didn't have any money, and she needed a fix. My mom made deals with them. I…did them favors and they gave her the drugs."

Dean ran a hand over his face. He had to look away from MJ, couldn't stand to see the look on her face as she spoke. "Favors?" he asked quietly, staring down at his hands, balled into fists at his sides.

She shook her head, Dean catching the movement out of his peripheral vision. "They didn't have sex with me. I just…did other…stuff for them."

Dean squeezed his eyes shut, trying hard not to think about what the "stuff" might have consisted of, although he had a pretty good idea. He turned to her. "How old were you?"

"The first time twelve. The second time was right before she disappeared."

"Is that what the nightmares are about?"

He saw the uncertainty in her eyes before she nodded, looking up at him.

Dean scooted closer to her, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "You have nothing to be ashamed about, ya know. This wasn't your fault."

She nodded, but Dean could see she wasn't buying it.

Dean let out an audible breath. "Here's the deal, kiddo. What you did last night, that _never_ happens again, understood?"

She nodded.

"Promise me, Kid."

"I promise."

"You were upset about everything with Dad, Sammy and I get that, but from now on you come to us when you're sad or pissed or whatever. You yell at me or break things or punch Sammy, whatever it takes." This earned him a small smirk from her. "But you _never, under any circumstances are to put yourself in danger like that again_."

She looked up at him. "Okay."

"And I have to talk to Jenna about this."

"Yeah, I know." She said, sounding resigned to that fact.

"And you're going to start seeing a therapist again."

She rolled her eyes. "Dean-"

He held his hand up, silencing her. "It's non-negotiable."

Dean stood, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Now once your coward of a brother gets back from wherever he's hiding, we'll go get breakfast and talk about your new rules."

MJ raised an eyebrow at him. "Rules?" She asked warily.

He nodded putting his hand out to her. She took it and he hauled her up off the bed. "Dad was right about one thing. We need to be more strict with you. You've got it far too easy."

This earned him another eye roll. "Oh, yes," She said gesturing to the room around her. "I'm clearly spoiled rotten, living in the lap of luxury." She said sarcastically.

Dean chose to ignore this. "Go get ready. So we can hit the road when Sammy gets back."

She gathered up her bag without further argument, heading toward the bathroom. She stopped and hesitated just outside the bathroom door.

"What?" Dean asked.

She stood there another moment before turning and walking back to Dean, wrapping her arms around him.

Dean was surprised, but returned the hug, squeezing her tightly to him. "What was that for?" Dean asked when she pulled away.

She shrugged. "I know I'm a pain in the ass sometimes. Just-thanks for putting up with me."

Dean smiled. "Right back at ya, Kid."


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: Guess who's back? Thanks for being patient while I got back into the swing of things. I hope those of you who celebrate Thanksgiving had a wonderful holiday. Thanks for reading. It's you guys who have kept this story going:) Enjoy!**

MJ's left hand rested on the table, her fingers drumming out a constant, nervous rhythm as she anxiously awaited Dean's return. Sam sat across from her, perusing the menu and trying unsuccessfully to act casual. As MJ turned and scanned the parking lot for the fiftieth time, trying to catch a glimpse of Dean, Sam's irritation got the best of him and he reached out, covering her hand with his, halting her incessant tapping.

"Relax."

She shot him a look. "Look who's talking." She muttered before returning her attention to the parking lot. "What the hell is taking so long? What could they possibly be talking about?" She complained.

"He's only been gone ten minutes. And, uh, there was kind of a lot to fill Jenna in on." Sam's eyes returned to the menu, but his focus was on MJ. He was just as unnerved as she was. During their talk last night, Dean had insisted on being completely up front with Jenna about everything that had happened, starting with John returning, and not skipping any of the gory details. Well, except the part where there was a demon after MJ. Sam had made a feeble attempt to persuade his brother to edit the story, but Dean had been adamant that they wouldn't be doing MJ any favors by downplaying what happened. Sam couldn't argue with that. The problem was Jenna's report to the Judge was coming due and Sam was worried that recent events could affect her opinion and the Judge's decision about MJ's placement. Sam ran a hand through his hair, thinking that lately it felt like they were on the verge of losing MJ more often than not. MJ was clearly concerned about this as well.

But Sam had something else weighing on his mind. He and Dean had also decided that if they were going to keep MJ safe, then she needed to know about this demon or whatever it was that was supposedly after her. Otherwise they knew she would fight them on the new rules they were about to lay down. _She'll probably fight us anyway_, Sam thought shaking his head slightly. She was so much like Dean.

MJ's head shot up as Dean finally made his way back inside and joined them at their table, giving Sam a quick look that said, _we're all good_. Sam relaxed slightly, at the news that Jenna wasn't freaking out over what had happened.

"What did she say?" MJ asked, before Dean was even in his seat. Just then the waitress approached to take their order. MJ started drumming her fingers again at Dean's long winded breakfast order. Sam gave her an annoyed look that she just returned, drumming her fingers more rapidly. When the waitress finally walked away, it was Dean's turn to halt his sister's fingers. He turned to her, his hand still covering hers. "Quit it or we're switching you to decaf."

"Dean, would you just tell us what she said already?" MJ begged.

Dean released her hand, picking up his coffee cup. "Well, she wasn't happy about what you did, but she's not hauling you off to foster care." He said before taking a sip. "She wants you to call her so she can talk to you about…what happened with your mother. And she's calling in a favor so you can uh…kite with a therapist." Sam and MJ gave him matching baffled look.

"Kite?" Sam asked.

Dean groaned. "You know, like talking on the computer so she can see you."

"Skype?" Sam asked, trying and failing to hide his grin.

"Whatever. It's not common for therapists to do that, but she was willing to try and arrange it for us since it would be impossible for you to see someone on a regular basis face to face."

MJ made a face.

"I don't want to hear any arguments about it." Dean said pointing a finger at her.

She held her hands up, palms toward Dean. "I didn't say anything."

Dean took another drink of his coffee, giving Sam the 'it's time' look over the rim of his cup. Sam took a deep breath, folding his hands together on the table. Dean had been annoyed that Sam had left this morning, leaving Dean to do the dirty work and talk to MJ. Dean had decided Sam's punishment was that he had to be the one to fill MJ in on everything John had told them. Sam hadn't argued, but the truth was he hadn't left because he was afraid to talk to MJ about what had happened with Wendy. He left because if Dean was ever going to gain MJ's trust, he needed to be able to talk with her about uncomfortable things without Sam there to back him up. Clearly it had worked, because Dean had dragged the truth out of her and the two were on speaking terms. Sam considered this to be progress.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to his sister. "There's something else we need to talk to you about." He began. He saw the alarm return to MJ's eyes. He wandered what she might be anticipating, and hurried to continue to save her from even more anxiety. "When Dad was here, he told us that there's a strong possibility that there's something, maybe a demon…looking for you. We don't know who it is or what it wants, but we have to assume it's a threat. We need to be really careful."

MJ was shaking her head. "Wait." She said, fixing Dean and then Sam with a frightened look. "Looking for me? What does that mean? And how does Dad know this?" She looked back to Dean, waiting for a response.

Dean sighed, a resigned look on his face as he turned toward MJ. "Wendy called Dad about a month ago and told him the reason she took off was because something was after you and it was going to try to use her to get to you. She said she needed to stay from you. We don't know what he wants with you."

MJ just stared at Dean, a frightened look on her face, trying to take all of this in. When she finally spoke, her voice was small and shocked. "Was it…_the_ demon?"

Dean shook his head. "No Dad thinks it is a demon, but not _the_ demon." Dean slid closer to her on the booth seat, placing a hand on her knee. "Listen uh, Dad said Wendy told him that this thing had come for you once before. Do you remember anything like that?"

She just shook her head, her face still full of dread.

Dean gave her knee a reassuring squeeze. "Hey. We're not gonna let anything happen to you, okay? Whatever this thing is, it's not going to get anywhere near you."

MJ looked down at her hands, gripping her coffee cup and gave a feeble nod.

"We'll figure this out, okay?" Dean cleared his throat and moved away from MJ as the waitress reappeared with their breakfasts. When she walked away again, Dean continued. "That's part of the reason things need to change around here. You thought you couldn't get rid of us before, we're gonna be up your butt 24/7." He said stuffing bacon into his mouth. "No more going for runs on your own or hanging out at the motel without one of us. You'll have to tag along wherever we go. And obviously, no more stunts like you pulled last night, although I sincerely hope that goes without saying."

She nodded quickly. "I know." When she finally looked up at them, Sam was surprised to see an expectant look in her eyes. "So if I have to tag along with you guys on _all_ of the hunts-"

"That doesn't mean you'll be fighting with us. You're gonna be on the sidelines as much as possible." Dean interrupted her.

The excitement in her eyes vanished.

"But you are going to memorize some exorcisms. It won't hurt for you to be prepared, to know how to defend yourself. It can be part of your lessons with Sam." Dean said, waving his fork toward his brother.

"Lessons?" She asked, pausing with a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to her mouth.

Dean nodded. "You need to get going on your school work. We decided Sam will work with you for an hour or two every day to get you caught up."

She sighed. "I can live with that."

"Are we clear on everything?" Dean asked her.

MJ exhaled. "Yeah." She said, picking up her knife and spreading jam on her toast. "I'm actually relieved."

Sam gave her a questioning look. "Relieved?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't know what you were going to come up with, but I guess it seems…reasonable. I mean I'm a little freaked out about this demon business. But at least I know Jenna's not putting me in foster care. Plus it's such a huge relief knowing that my mother's alive." As soon as the words had left her mouth an odd look came over her face and her knife clattered onto her plate. Her cheeks grew crimson as she looked up first at Sam and then Dean.

"What is it?" Dean asked.

"You've known for nearly 24 hours that my mother is still alive and you waited until now to tell me?" When neither of them answered she continued, tears springing to her eyes. "How could you keep that from me? You know how worried I was that something had happened to her."

"Whoa. MJ, we weren't trying to keep it from you. It's just, with everything going on with Dad and this demon business, there wasn't time to sit down and talk about it." Dean defended.

"There wasn't time?" She practically shouted. Sam glanced around the busy diner, noticing several people were looking at them. "Jesus, Dean, do you even care? She's my mother."

Dean set his fork down, fixing MJ with an exasperated look. "You know honestly MJ, I was a little preoccupied tracking your butt down!"

"Guys, let's take it down a notch." Sam said. If either of his siblings heard him, they chose to ignore him.

"You should have told me as soon as Dad told you. Shit, he should have told me himself." MJ ranted.

"Well, I'm sorry I wasn't jumping for joy at finding out that the woman who pimped you out and then abandoned you for four months was alive and well. That's not really cause for celebration in my book." Dean said in a harsh whisper.

MJ just looked at him for a moment. "Let me out." She finally said, a lone tear making its way down her right cheek.

Dean didn't budge from the booth, blocking her in.

"I'll scream." She threatened in a quiet voice, eyes locked with Dean's.

"Hang on!" Sam shouted at them. "That's enough. Both of you just calm down. MJ you're not going anywhere. Didn't we just get done telling you that you can't go off on your own, not even for a minute?" Sam turned to his brother, giving him an admonishing look that said _fix this_. "Dean." Was all he said to him.

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "I'm sorry. It's not like I hoped that something bad had happened to Wendy. I just didn't even think about how important it would be to you to know she had contacted Dad. I should have realized how much that would mean to you and told you right away."

MJ didn't say anything, but she stopped trying to get out of the booth and looked down at her half eaten breakfast, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Are we cool?" Dean asked after the waitress returned to freshen their coffees.

At MJ's nod, Dean continued. "I got a call from Bobby. He thinks he has a case for us. Lincoln, Nebraska. Three women have been murdered in their homes. In all three cases, their doors were locked and there were no signs of forced entry."

"How were they killed?" Sam asked.

"Their hearts basically exploded." Dean answered, matter-of-factly.

"No, that doesn't seem strange at all." Sam said sarcastically.

"I think it's worth checking out." Dean said, pulling out his wallet. He tossed money down on the table. "Better hit the head. Got a long drive ahead of us." He said, standing up.

Sam nodded, heading toward the bathroom. MJ stood and began to follow Sam. Dean stopped her, sticking out his arm in front of her. "Listen, I can't help but be angry with her, MJ after what she's done to you."

"I know." She said simply.

"And I am sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"I get it, Dean." She looked up, meeting her brother's eye. "But no matter what she did, she's still my mother." She headed off to the bathroom, leaving Dean looking after her, a contrite look on his face.

* * *

><p>Sam was waiting for her in the short hallway where the bathrooms were located. "I'll meet you right here." He said before pushing the door to the men's room open and stepping inside.<p>

MJ rolled her eyes as she stepped into the bathroom. They weren't kidding about being up her butt. She splashed some water on her face and combed her fingers through her hair. She was dreading the long car ride to Nebraska. Normally she didn't mind the long drives, had become used to it, but today she was sure she would spend the hours thinking about what Dean and Sam had just told her. Imagining what kind of horrible creature would find her and…She shook her head, grabbing paper towels and drying off her face. She couldn't afford to think like that. She needed to just focus on this new case, her school work and learning how to better defend herself. This, she knew would be her best distraction. Dean had taught her the basics the first few weeks she was with him, but she knew there was so much more her brothers could teach her. She pulled open the bathroom door and made her way into the hallway, wondering if Dean would let her learn to shoot a gun, when her phone buzzed in her jeans pocket. She looked down to retrieve it and ran face first into something solid with such force that she stumbled backward, flailing as she tried to regain her footing. She landed on her butt, on the floor, looking up to see that the something she had run into was actually a person. A tall, blond guy, who looked as surprised as she was.

"Geez." He said looking down at her. "You okay?" He extended a hand to her.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry." MJ said reaching out to accept his hand. The moment he grasped her hand in his, the room seemed to tilt and everything went blurry. MJ was bombarded with fleeting images flickering in front of her eyes. A roaring filled her ears. She couldn't breathe. She knew what she was seeing wasn't really happening, but it seemed so real. She tried to focus on each image before it disappeared only to leave another in its place. She saw a blond man, who she recognized as the same man standing over her, descending on a woman. The woman looked terrified. The image shifted. MJ saw the same frightened woman, this time with her arm in a cast, running down a hallway, the blond guy pursuing her, fury plain on his face. Another shift and the woman was cowering on the floor, her arms over her head while he hit her again and again. Then, as suddenly as they had begun, the images stopped, and the room slowly came back into focus. The floor felt steady underneath her once again, and she took a gasping breath, realizing she hadn't been able to breathe since she took hold of the man's hand. The roaring quieted, and she looked up at the man. She quickly yanked her hand free of his.

"Get away from me." She managed, still trying to catch her breath. She scooted back away from him.

The man took a step toward her, looking confused and alarmed. "Hey, I'm just trying to help."

"I said get away!" MJ was panicking, her back was now against the wall, and she couldn't seem to find the strength to get to her feet.

* * *

><p>"MJ?" The first thing Sam saw as he opened the door of the men's room was MJ sitting on the floor. He registered her petrified expression before he realized there was someone else in the small hallway. He turned toward the man standing over his sister. Confusion gave way to anger as Sam approached the man, shoving him back, away from MJ.<p>

"Get away from her!" Sam growled before crouching down in front of MJ. "Are you okay? What happened?" He asked, looking her over. She didn't look hurt, just scared as hell.

"Hey, it was just an accident, man. Then she freaked out when I tried to help her up." The man argued, clearly irritated.

"I'm okay, just please get me out of here." MJ said urgently.

Sam pulled her to her feet, gripping her arms tightly. She wobbled, and Sam had to steady her to keep her on her feet. "What did he do?" He spat, wanting answers for why his sister was in this condition.

"Hey, Pal, I just told you, I didn't do anything. She just went ballistic!" The man tried again. Sam didn't bother turning to look at him, but could tell from the man's voice that he was getting anxious. _Good_, Sam thought. _He should be worried_.

"Are you hurt anywhere? Tell me what happened?" Sam asked, still gripping her arms tightly.

"Fuck it." He heard the man mumble behind him before turning to walk away.

Sam released his hold on MJ and turned, intent on keeping the man here until he had some answers, but MJ pulled him back toward her, gripping a handful of his shirt sleeve with her fists. "Sam, please. Just get me the hell out of here!" She begged. When Sam turned back to face her he could see she was near hysterics. Her face was ashen and sweaty and she couldn't seem to catch her breath. Sam heard the man turn and bolt, but knew he couldn't follow him and leave MJ alone. _Where the hell is Dean_? He thought as he placed his arm around her waist and pulled her arm up over his shoulder, half carrying her through the diner and out the door into the parking lot.

"Do you want to sit for a minute?" He asked her, canting his head toward a bench in front of the restaurant.

She shook her head quickly. "Just help me get to the car." Sam bit his tongue. He considered stopping, sitting her down on the bench and refusing to go any further until she told him what had happened inside. He kept moving though, seeing the Impala a short distance away, Dean pacing beside it, his phone to his ear.

"Okay just a little further." Sam said to her.

Dean looked up as they approached the car, and stopped dead in his tracks when he took in MJ's appearance.

"Shit." He cursed, quickly snapping his phone shut and grabbing MJ's other side when they drew level with him. "What the hell happened?"

Sam pulled the back door open, guiding MJ inside so she was sitting sideways on the seat, her feet on the ground.

Sam was hovering over MJ, who looked up meeting his eye, still looking frightened but nowhere near as panicked as she had inside.

"What the hell went on in there, Sammy?" Dean stood beside Sam, his eyes on MJ, but his question directed at his brother.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest his eyes never leaving MJ. "That's exactly what I'd like to know."


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: Hello again! The song that's referenced in this chapter is Remedy by Black Crowes. Happy reding! **

MJ's entire body ached as if she had just run a marathon, or maybe been run over by a semi-truck. She just barely had the strength to look up at her brothers, standing over her, demanding answers she couldn't give them. What _had_ happened? Some kind of psychic vision? She had never experienced anything like it. Whatever it was, its passing had left her with a dull pain in her head that was quickly building into a killer headache. She must have had a vacant look on her face, because her brothers had taken to discussing her as if she weren't even there.

"Well why does she look like she's about to pass out?" Dean asked, exasperated, unable to keep his voice from adopting an accusatory tone. He had left them alone for less than five minutes and MJ came out looking like death warmed over.

"I told you Dean, I don't know. I found her on the floor with some guy standing over her. He took off when I came out." Sam defended.

"Guy? What guy?" Dean turned, making a visual sweep of the parking lot. After seeing that no one else was around, he turned back to Sam. "Why the hell was she alone anyway?" he asked, frustration evident in his voice.

"Because I didn't think she needed my help in the Ladies' room." Sam said angrily.

MJ leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees, holding her sore head in her hands. "Knock it off!" She scolded them.

Dean looked down at her when she spoke. He pushed past Sam, crouching down in front of her.

"MJ," He began in a stern voice. "You have to tell us what happened in there." She made no response, not looking up. "Right now." Dean added.

MJ let out a long breath, slowly raising her head. Dean didn't think he had ever seen her looking so pale.

"I don't really know." She said in a shaky voice.

"Well then tell us what you _do_ know." Dean demanded.

MJ took another breath, rubbing her forehead. She squinted, the light bothering her eyes even though it wasn't a particularly bright day.

"I came out of the bathroom and I wasn't looking where I was going and I just sort of ran into this guy. I lost my balance and fell. He took my hand to help me up and when he touched me…" This much made sense to her, but everything from the moment when her skin made contact with his was a blur. Like a weird dream you can just barely remember bits and pieces of.

"When he touched you, what?" Dean asked urgently. "MJ, what did he do?"

MJ started to shake her head, but abruptly stopped when she found the slight movement made it feel like someone was taking a hammer to her temples. "No. He didn't do anything. At least not to _me_. Maybe not to anyone, I mean- I don't know if any of it was real."

Both brothers wore matching expressions of confusion. "If any of _what_ was real?" Sam asked.

MJ closed her eyes, no longer able to stand the brightness. "When he touched me I…saw things. Like…images or something."

Sam stiffened. "Images of what?" he asked.

"Of him…terrorizing this woman. His wife maybe."

"You _saw_ it? Like…a vision?" Dean asked slowly.

"I don't know. The room sorta faded away and everything was blurry." She paused, swallowing audibly. "And I couldn't hear anything, just this loud roaring noise." She placed a hand to her chest, her breathing becoming more rapid as she recalled the terrible sensation. "I couldn't breathe. And then it just…stopped. And I felt like I'd been run through the spin cycle of the washing machine."

Dean looked back at Sam, his face a mask of apprehension. He turned slowly back to MJ. "Has anything like this ever happened before?"

"No." MJ wrapped her arms around herself, feeling suddenly chilled. She looked up at her brothers, her eyes open ever so slightly against the harsh light. "What's happening to me?"

* * *

><p>"Just uh-take 72 out of Springfield. We'll be on that for a hundred miles or so." Sam said, refolding the map.<p>

Dean gave a nod, as he drove toward the on ramp, glancing in the rearview mirror yet again. MJ had fallen asleep when they stopped for gas, clearly exhausted from the episode in the diner. Dean had adjusted the mirror so he could see her more easily, curled up on the bench seat, Sam's jacket draped over her.

Dean's eyes returned to the road, but his troubled thoughts remained with his sister. He thought about what she had said, about the room fading away…the loud roaring noise…how she couldn't breathe. Were these symptoms of psychic visions? Dean's stomach squirmed at the thought. He let out a long breath, turning to Sam.

"So, what do you think happened back there?" He asked, keeping his voice casual, trying hard not to sound like he was accusing Sam of anything.

Sam looked over at Dean for a long moment before answering. "I don't know. I mean I can't say for sure, but it sounds like she had a vision."

Dean's eyebrows rose. "What like your visions? What makes you think so?" Dean asked, his eyes still on the road.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. "Well, uh, the way she described it. Everything getting blurry, the images flashing. Definitely the headache." He looked over his shoulder at MJ. "It takes a lot out of you." He said quietly, sympathizing with his sister.

Dean turned toward Sam. "What, so now she's a freakin' psychic or something? You're both gonna get these freaky ass visions all the time?" He spat, slightly hysterical.

Sam shook his head, clearly irritated. "It's not like I chose this, Dean. And it's not like I have the answers about why it's happening. To me or her." Sam turned away, gazing at the passing countryside.

After a few moments of silence, Dean sighed. "I know it's not your fault I just-" He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. "Shit, hasn't she been through enough? Aren't things complicated enough for her without this, too?" Dean asked heatedly, struggling to keep his voice low so he didn't wake his sister.

"Well maybe it doesn't mean anything. I mean, it was just one vision. Maybe it's nothing." Sam offered.

Dean snorted. "When it is ever nothing with us?"

Sam didn't respond to this. They rode in silence for a few minutes, Neil Young playing softly in the background.

"Hey," Sam asked, something occurring to him. "Who were you on the phone with when we came out of the diner? It looked like you were pissed about something."

"Jesus." Dean said, shaking his head. "I almost forgot." Seeing MJ looking like death had driven the phone conversation from his mind completely. "While I was waiting for you guys I called Chicago Police to ask about the charges against that Biz guy. Said I was a fed. The detective told me that the weapons charges would stick, but that they didn't think they'd have enough to charge him with the girl's death."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's almost impossible to prosecute a murder when you don't have a body." Dean said leveling a look at Sam. "Meg's body went missing. When the ME went to do the autopsy yesterday morning, the slab was empty. Nothing else even looked like it had been touched. No signs of a break in. He was reluctant to tell me any of this, but you know, FBI and all…I persuaded him."

"What the hell?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, Sammy." Dean said, shaking his head. "Even dead, the bitch is still wreaking havoc."

"Well, he should do some time for all those unregistered guns." Sam offered.

"Yeah, that reminds me. We left ourselves pretty short on guns. We planted half of what we had on Biz. We'll need to get some more. Maybe Bobby can help with that." Dean paused. "Maybe he can help with this whole…vision thing, too."

"We could head there after we check out this case." Sam said with a shrug. "Sioux Falls is just a few hours from Lincoln. Straight shot north."

Dean nodded. "Works for me." They definitely could use the break and he knew MJ enjoyed spending time at Bobby's. It would be good for all of them.

* * *

><p>Her eyes hadn't adjusted to the light. She squinted, trying to make out the room around her. She didn't need to see to know where she was. She recognized the smell before anything else. The smell was unmistakable. Burned plastic…sweat…filth and cigarette smoke. And him. She had walked into a classroom once and the substitute teacher was wearing the same cologne. MJ had barely made it to the bathroom before becoming violently sick.<p>

The early afternoon sunlight pouring into the hot, humid room was nearly blinding her. She frantically scoured the room with her eyes squinted against the light, looking for him. He was close. She shielded her eyes with her hand, but it made no difference. The light was blinding. She strained her ears, listening for any sounds of movement. That's when the music started, soft at first and growing steadily louder.

_If I come on like a dream?  
>Would you let me show you what I mean?<br>If you let me come on inside?  
>Will you let it glide?<em>

Can I have some remedy?  
>Remedy for me please.<br>Cause if I had some remedy  
>I'd take enough to please me.<p>

Black Crowes. Always Black Crowes.

She swung her legs off of the bed she was sitting on and took a tentative step, still unable to see the room around her. The carpet under her bare feet felt spongy and damp. When she had taken two small steps without incident, she became even more eager to find a way out and moved more swiftly. A few more steps and her left shin bashed into something solid, sending her flying face first onto the grimy floor. She lifted herself up off the floor a few inches still unable to see anything. That's when she felt his hand on the small of her back, caressing the skin there. She started, an involuntary gasp falling from her lips.

"No." She whispered as his hand traveled lower.

"_No. Please, please, no_." She begged, tears stinging her eyes.

She felt the scratch of his stubble as his face rubbed along her jawline, could feel his breath against her neck.

"Shhhhh." He whispered.

She screamed.

"Mary Jane! Mary Jane!" Her eyes popped open and she gasped for breath, looking up at Dean's frightened face. He held her face in his hands, not so gently shaking her. Sam stood behind him, clearly freaked out. "You okay?" Dean asked.

She slowly sat up, looking around. She was still in the back seat of the Impala. Dean must have pulled over when she screamed. She nodded, noticing that this didn't set off the horrible pounding that was there before. Her eyes didn't seem sensitive to the light anymore and her muscles weren't nearly as sore. She felt…better.

"I'm okay. Just a bad dream." She said, noticing the deep scratch marks on Dean's left cheek. She reached up, her fingers hovering over his face, not quite touching the angry looking marks. They were still bleeding. "What happened?"

Dean took hold of her wrist, moving her hand away. "Nothing." He said, not meeting her eye. "Are you sure you're okay? You were screaming so loud you almost gave me a freakin' heart attack."

MJ's brow furrowed. What wasn't he saying. Then it hit her. "Oh, shit! _I_ did that to you?"

Dean shrugged, straightening up to stand just outside the car door, next to Sam.

"Dean, I'm sorry." MJ said, embarrassed. "I can't believe-"

"Forget it." He snapped. "I'm fine." He turned and opened the driver side door. He paused before getting in, turning back toward her. "I don't suppose you'll tell us what the nightmare was about."

She looked down, saying nothing.

"That's what I thought." Dean mumbled, lowering himself back into the car. "Then we should get back on the road." He slammed the door closed, making MJ jump.

She looked up at Sam, who gave her a reassuring smile. She sat back in her seat, fastening her seatbelt as Sam closed her door.

She shivered when Dean started the car and the last few notes of the Black Crowes song from here dream filled the car. She wondered if the song playing is what triggered the dream or if it was just a weird coincidence. She awaited the end of the song in agony, her jaw clenched.

Dean was pissed at her. It didn't take a genius to see that. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, eyes straight ahead as he drove on toward Lincoln. No one said anything for the next 45 minutes or so. MJ sat, staring out the window, fighting to forget the dream. She knew sleep would be near impossible for the foreseeable future.

Dean suddenly reached out, turning the volume down on the radio and turned to Sam.

"Victims have anything in common?" He asked, as if they were picking back up in the middle of a conversation, which MJ realized they probably were.

"Not really." Sam said, pulling out his laptop. They all lived in or around Lincoln and they all died, seemingly, alone in their homes. Autopsies said cause of death was cardiac arrest, but the coroner's notes mention specifically that their hearts were in pieces inside their chest cavities."

"Like they exploded." Dean commented, remembering what Bobby had told him. "No other injuries?"

Sam shook his head. "None."

MJ cringed. "What could do something like that?" She asked.

Sam shrugged. "Spirit maybe."

"Well, let's start with the police reports. If nothing else at least we can find out if there were any witnesses and go back and talk to them. Then we can check out the chicks' places." Dean said.

"So Special Agents Plant and Page then?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded. "And their trusty intern." Dean added, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror then quickly back to the road.

Sam turned in his seat to face MJ. "Maybe forgo the pantyhose this time."

MJ saw Dean smirk and smiled in spite of herself.


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Howdy! Thanks for the reviews. You guys are the best. Enjoy!**

MJ was no fool. Even though Dean was trying to act as if everything was fine, she knew he was still angry with her, and she was pretty sure she knew why. He wanted to know what her dream had been about. What had been so horrible that she had physically attacked him in her sleep? As they drove on toward Lincoln, the car silent with the exception of Sam typing away on his laptop and Dean singing off key back up for Ozzy Osbourne, MJ surreptitiously watched her eldest brother. She couldn't wrap her head around his logic. He was pissed over the whole guy in the bar thing, and she totally understood why. She had deserved his wrath – and then some- for what she had done. But _he_ had apologized to _her_; given her some new rules and that had been that. She could see that he was over it and moving on. But this deal with her nightmares…he just wouldn't let it go. She wondered as she watched him what he hoped to accomplish by nagging her to talk to him about it. Did he really think that if he knew all the gory details he could fix it? The sad truth was that she was broken beyond repair, and telling him about it wouldn't put her back together, it would only break him into a million pieces, too.

When they next stopped for gas and a bathroom break, MJ hung back, pretending to search for something in her bag.

"Go ahead, Sammy. I'll catch up." Sam nodded and headed inside while Dean began pumping gas. MJ strolled around to the driver side of the car, leaning against the fender. She crossed her arms, her eyes surveying Dean with a thoughtful stare.

He finally turned toward her, his expression cautious. "What?"

"You're pissed at me." She said simply.

Dean only shrugged in response, returning his attention to the gas pump.

MJ straightened up, taking a tentative step closer to him. "It's never gonna happen, Dean." She told him, her shoulders set and her eyes unyielding as she looked at her brother.

He whipped his head back around to face her. "What's never gonna happen?"

She shook her head, a mirthless smile on her face. "You know exactly what I'm talking about. You want me to learn to trust you. Fine, I get that. And I'm trying Dean, I really am. But there's just some things that I'm not willing to do."

"Like?" Dean asked. She could see the barely contained anger in his eyes.

"Like spilling my guts to you about every little thing that happened to me growing up. Like running to you every time I have a bad dram and giving you the play by play. That's not me, Dean. Never will be."

Her eyes never wavered as she stared him down. He finished filling up the tank and replaced the nozzle in the pump before turning toward her. He pointed a finger in her face. "I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong, Mary Jane."

MJ took another step, closing the small gap between them. Her arms were still folded, but her eyes had softened. Her anger had given way to sadness and appreciation. Dean meant well after all, she reminded herself. But it didn't change anything.

"You can't help me. Period. End of story." She paused swallowing. "Even if you knew every last detail, you can't help. You just- you can't."

She looked down at her feet and started walking toward the store. She looked up to see Sam coming toward her, three coffees in hand. He gave her a funny look just as she felt strong hands on her shoulders, spinning her around. She was face to face with Dean. She couldn't quite read his expression. The scratch marks were bright pink against his skin, and MJ felt a pang of guilt at how deep they looked.

Dean took a deep breath, before he leaned toward her, his eyes showing nothing but determination as he clutched her shoulders, almost painfully.

"Watch me." He said in a stern voice. With that he relinquished his hold on her and stalked off toward the store. He stopped after a few steps and turned back toward her, the beginnings of a smile on his face. "Good talk." He said, before turning and continuing on his way.

Sam walked over to her. "What was that all about?" He asked, handing her a coffee.

MJ just shrugged, but on the inside she was cringing. She had deciphered Dean's expression. It read: Game on.

* * *

><p>"Gentlemen." The police chief, a man in his early forties stood in front of them, a polite smile on his face. He looked like a no-nonsense type of guy. MJ hoped that her brothers picked up on this and that Sam did most of the talking. She could tell that Dean's sarcasm and poor attempts at humor wouldn't get them far with this type.<p>

Dean walked beside the chief as he led them to his office, Sam and MJ following closely in their wake. The chief ushered them inside the office and gestured toward the three chairs in front of his desk.

"So, what can I do for you, agents-?"

"Oh uh, Special Agent Plant," Sam said pulling out his badge before gesturing toward Dean, "and this is Special Agent Page and our college intern Maureen Nalle."

MJ smiled her steno book and pen at the ready in her lap. The chief nodded his head in her direction, but his gaze stayed on her brothers.

"Chief Carr." He introduced, shaking Sam and Dean's hands. "Well, my sergeant said you were looking for information on the Susan McAdams case?" He clarified as he took a seat as well.

"Yes, and the Adrian Dunham and Valerie Samson deaths also." Sam said.

Chief Carr's head shot up. He looked back and forth between Sam and Dean curiously. "I'm sorry, but I'm not clear as to why the FBI has an interest in these deaths. Sure, the circumstances are similar, but these deaths just aren't suspicious. It's not likely that it's the work of the same killer. At least not the same _human_ killer." The chief said, clasping his hands on his desk and fixing Sam and Dean with a determined look.

Sam and Dean shared a glance before turning back toward the chief. "Not-not human?" Dean asked.

"Full blood toxicology screens are being done on all three. I think these young women were experimenting with some new drug, got carried away and went into cardiac arrest. So, yeah I think the same thing killed them, but beyond that they're not connected. So if you guys are here thinking you've got some super human serial killer on your hands, sorry to disappoint. Just your everyday, run of the mill drug overdoses." He said with a note of finality in his voice.

MJ tried and failed to stifle a disbelieving scoff as she scribbled down fake notes. When she looked up she saw that the chief's stare fixed on her, a scowl on his face.

"You disagree Miss Nalle?"

"What? No, I'm sorry. Please continue."

Chief Carr leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "No, no. Clearly you have something to say. By all means, enlighten us."

MJ hesitated, looking back at the chief. She glanced at Sam, whose expression was telling her to tread carefully. She let out a slow breath, shrugging.

"Well, its just-three overdoses in ten days' time? And I've never heard of someone's heart exploding from an overdose." MJ said. The chief stayed quiet for a while, fixing her with a clearly annoyed look. His eyes were boring into her and she cleared her throat, looking back down at her notes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was stern, his tone edging toward anger. "So what you're saying is, in your 20 years of life, two whole years of college and oh, _zero_ years of crime investigation, you've never come across an OD victim who went into cardiac arrest?"

"No, I'm just saying-"

"That your vast experience tells you that these are murders?" Chief Carr interrupted, still fixing her with that pissed off look. "Tell me, Ms. Nalle what is _your_ theory?"

MJ bit her cheek to keep herself from giving him her real theory – along with her not so flattering opinion of him – and gave him what she hoped was a benign look while furiously clicking her pen repeatedly.

Sensing victory, Chief Carr leaned back in his chair, and turned toward Dean and Sam. "I recommend you keep your little helper here on a shorter leash, gentlemen."

Dean visibly bristled. "Come again?" He demanded angrily, beginning to get up out of his chair. Sam placed a hand quickly on his older brother's shoulder, pushing him back down into his chair.

"Sorry about that, sir." Sam said, "I'm sure you're right about the deaths, but we still need to follow up. Orders." He explained. "We'll just take the case files and be on our way."

Chief Carr picked up a thick manila folder from the edge of his desk and tossed it down in front of Sam. "That's the McAdams file. I had it ready because I had a feeling the feds would stick their noses into this. The other victims lived outside of the Lincoln city limits so Lancaster County Sheriff's handled them. I'll inform them that you'll be needing their files as well and have them sent to your hotel." He stood, looking down at Sam as if he were trying to stare him down. "But I'm telling you it's a waste of time. Those deaths were all accidental and there's nothing more to it." He walked to the door and opened it, standing to the side. He said nothing further, but only stood there, rigid, waiting for them to file out.

Dean strode out of the office quickly, his face red, not sparing Chief Carr so much as a glance on his way by. Sam followed MJ out, giving the chief a quick nod of thanks as he passed him.

"Douche bag." Dean muttered as they walked across the street to where the Impala was parked. "It never ceases to amaze me the lengths civilians will go to convince themselves that the paranormal don't exist." Dean said, climbing into the driver's seat.

"Well, when you live your life believing some things aren't real, you'll do just about anything to ignore the evidence that's right in front of your face." Sam said, fastening his seatbelt. "Anyway, I'd rather the police were backing off. Makes it easier for us to do our jobs."

"Yeah, Sammy's right," MJ offered from the backseat. "Plus what a complete dick wad, huh?"

"No argument here." Dean agreed, pulling away from the curb.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Susan McAdams, 28, lived here with her boyfriend, Tom Ellis. He wasn't home the night she was killed." Sam read from the file, sitting on Susan's bed in her two bedroom apartment. "Body was found over there by the window." Sam said, getting up and walking toward the window.<p>

MJ was crouched down in front of the sill, running her hands over the damaged plaster and dented wood. "Look at this, Sam. Someone was pounding on this window with all they were worth. Broke right through the sheetrock, but didn't even chip the glass." She turned toward Sam, who was inspecting the damage as well. "It's like she completely missed the window. No one's aim is that bad."

Dean entered the room, sweeping the EMF meter in an arc in front of him. It began to whine frantically as soon as he crossed the threshold into the bedroom. Dean backed up into the hallway again, and the meter quieted. He moved forward again and the high pitched noise resumed.

"Bingo." Dean said moving into the bedroom and walking around, all the while the readings remaining high. "Something was definitely here."

MJ wandered over to the closet, looking inside. "What the hell?" She muttered, pulling out a sweater with a large gash across the front, nearly cutting it in half. MJ rifled through the remaining clothes and found that most everything was torn and slashed beyond repair. She inspected the clothing in the dresser, which was all neatly folded, despite also being ripped and torn.

"_To the left, to the left. Everything you own in the box to the left. In the closet, that's my stuff. Yes, if I bought it, please don't touch_." She sang quietly as she began to inspect the dirty clothes hamper, finding that everything there was ruined as well. "And keep_ talkin' that mess, that's fine. Could you walk and talk at the same time_?" She looked up to find her brothers giving her identical half amused, half disbelieving looks.

"What?" She asked innocently.

"What the hell are you singing?" Dean asked.

"Beyonce." She answered with a shrug. "It just popped into my head." Dean was looking at her like her singing had offended him. "What? You can butcher Zeppelin for six hours straight, but I can't sing one pop song?"

Dean shook his head, and Sam just smirked and went about his business. They searched the rest of the apartment. MJ, finding the song was still firmly stuck in her head, hummed the tune while they worked.

"Were the clothes she was wearing when she was found torn up, too?" Dean asked as he relocked the apartment door.

Sam skimmed the police report, MJ and Dean standing beside him in the deserted hallway.

"Yeah, says her shirt and shorts were both shredded."

"So whatever it is locks them in, rips up their clothes and blows their hearts to pieces? That's weird, even by our standards." Dean commented.

"Okay we have one witness. Patrick King, apartment 2C. Should be just down the hall." Sam pointed to his left. MJ turned to make her way down the corridor and was suddenly bowled over by a giant hairy beast. She landed on her back, with heavy paws on her chest pinning her down. She was too shocked to even scream. She looked up into the excited, dopey eyes of the most massive brown dog she'd ever seen.

"Tyson, no! Get off her!" She heard someone shout. The dog tilted his head to the side, considering her carefully, before licking her quickly, his giant tongue soaking her face from chin to forehead.

"Ugh!" She yelled, but couldn't help grinning. This dog was freaking adorable.

A man appeared, standing over her, securing a leash to the massive animal. "Tyson, off, now!" He yelled, pulling the dog back. Once she was freed from the dog's hold, Sam hauled MJ to her feet. She quickly wiped the slobber from her face, looking over the man standing in front of her, still trying to maintain control of the dog. He had curly brown hair and his face was bright red with embarrassment. He was wearing sweats and an Under Armour shirt, like he was heading out for a jog. MJ thought he should wear the outfit daily, regardless of what activity he had planned. Once Tyson seemed sufficiently controlled, the man looked up, an apologetic smile on his face.

"I'm really sorry. Are you okay?" He asked, and MJ saw real concern in his eyes.

She nodded, feeling her own face burning. "Yeah, fine. Don't worry about it."

The man reached down, placing a hand on Tyson's giant head. "Tyson gets excited when there's visitors. Plus, he's been acting whacky ever since-" He paused, glancing to Susan McAdams's apartment door, mere feet from where MJ was standing. "Are you with the police?" He asked in disbelief.

"Huh?" MJ asked stupidly, before remembering she was indeed supposed to be with the FBI. "Oh, yeah. I'm looking into Susan McAdams' death."

Dean cleared his throat loudly from behind her and she jumped. She had forgotten her brothers were even there.

"_We're_ looking into her death." MJ reluctantly corrected.

Dean stepped forward, level with MJ, sizing up the man. He flashed his badge, Sam following suit. "Did you know the victim, Mr.-"

"King. Patrick King." He shrugged, directing his response toward MJ. "She moved here in January. Tim moved in a couple months ago. Talked to him more than her, but they were quiet, pretty much kept to themselves."

"Your statement to the local police said you heard a disturbance last Friday evening coming from Ms. McAdams' apartment?" Sam verified, reading from the file.

Patrick nodded. "Well, Tyson was going nuts so I went to take him out and he ran to Susan's apartment door and just started whining. I was trying to pull him away when this…ridiculously loud music started playing inside. Like_, loud_. But I thought I could hear someone screaming, too. I knocked and yelled, but I don't think anyone could hear me over the music. Then it just stopped and I didn't hear anything at all. I knocked again but no one answered. That's when I called the police."

MJ was watching Patrick closely, and saw sadness and concern in his eyes. "Do you know what happened to her?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, but it's still under investigation." Sam said.

"Thanks for your time. We won't keep you any longer." Dean said, clearly a dismissal.

Patrick nodded, pulling Tyson toward the front door.

"Well, if you think of anything else, give us a call." MJ said, handing him a business card. Patrick took it, smiling at her.

"Aren't you a little young for an FBI agent?" He asked.

MJ returned his smile. "Intern, actually. Public Justice major" She explained.

"I'm a Public Justice major at UN Lincoln." He said. "Wow, FBI. That must be a tough internship to land. Pretty impressive."

"Oh, thanks." She said, waving off the compliment.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Hey, buddy, I think your dog really has to go. You'd better get outta here before he can't hold it any longer."

"Huh?" Patrick said, reluctantly turning toward Dean before looking down at Tyson. "No, I think he's okay."

"Dude, hit the road." Dean ordered. MJ glared at him.

"Okay." Patrick said, looking crestfallen. He turned back to MJ. "I didn't catch your name."

"Oh. Maureen Nalle."

"Well, nice meeting you, Maureen." He said, shaking her hand again, much to Dean's annoyance. "Good luck."

"You, too." MJ said, smiling after him as he left, pulling Tyson along behind him.

After he was gone, MJ turned toward Dean. "You're so rude." She said before heading toward the door.

"What? We were wasting valuable time, shooting the shit. We got places to be." Dean defended.

MJ just shook her head as they made their way to the Impala.

"What's next? The boyfriend?" Dean asked, placing the key in the ignition.

"Guess so. Then we can go to the hotel and see if the other files are there yet." Sam answered, fastening his seatbelt.

MJ nearly jumped out of her skin when Dean started the car and the radio blared.

_To the left, to the left  
>Everything you own in the box to the left<br>In the closet, that's my stuff  
>Yes, if I bought then please don't touch<em>

Dean quickly reached out, clicking the radio off. "What the hell?" He shouted, looking over his shoulder at MJ, clearly irritated.

"What?" She asked. Dean just looked at her, his eyes clearly accusing her. "I didn't do that. I was with you!"

"Well I didn't leave it like that." Dean argued.

"I didn't mess with your precious car, Dean." MJ defended.

Dean opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Sam.

"Dean, let it go." Sam said, leveling a look at his brother.

Dean closed his mouth, putting the car in drive and easing away from the curb.

MJ couldn't shake the strange feeling she got when she heard that song playing.


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: Hey! Things are a little hectic right now with the holidays, so I don't know how soon I'll be able to post another chapter. I'll do my best:) Happy Holidays!**

Dean heard from Jenna on their way to interview Susan's boyfriend, and she informed him she had scheduled the first of MJ's therapy sessions for later that evening. MJ had been grumbling about it since Dean hung up the phone.

According to the police reports, Timothy Ellis sold Mercedes' for a living. They drove to the dealership, and were told that Tim was out on a test drive with a customer. To kill some time, Dean headed to the nearest electronics store so they could purchase the web cam for MJ's sessions.

"Go ahead, kid." Dean said to MJ as he parked the Impala in front of the store and handed her some cash.

MJ snatched the bills from Dean's outstretched hand and got out of the car, slamming the door without a word to her brothers. Dean called out the window after her. "And hey, if you have enough leftover, buy yourself a new attitude. Something less moody and bitchy."

MJ turned, flipping Dean the bird before heading into the store.

"Man, our sister is one classy lady." Dean quipped, fiddling with the radio.

Sam smirked. "Want me to go in with her?" Sam asked, surprised Dean had let her go into the store alone.

"Nah," Dean answered, "I can see her from here." He pointed to his sister, who he had a clear view of through the storefront window as she approached a salesman. Dean suddenly smirked, nudging Sam with his elbow. "Watch this." He said pulling out his cell phone.

_I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes  
>And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo'<br>Then I wanna, ahh ahh - you make it so good I don't wanna leave  
>But I gotta, kn-kn-kn-know what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy<br>I wanna get you in the Georgia Dome on the fifty yard line_

"God damn it, Dean!" MJ hissed, flushing crimson as she rushed to silence her phone. The salesman was smiling politely, pausing in his explanation of the various webcams they sold to wait for the music to end. "Sorry." MJ said, mortified.

She hastily selected a camera and paid, practically running from the store, her face burning. She could hear Dean roaring with laughter as she approached the Impala.

She quickly got into the car, slammed the door shut and reached over the seat in front of her to pinch Dean's arm.

"Hey!" Dean yelped before resuming his obnoxious laughter. He turned in his seat, taking in her pissed off expression. "Oh, come on. I mean, you shoulda seen your face."

Sam apparently _had_ seen her face, because he couldn't seem to hold back any longer and started chuckling along with Dean.

MJ just shook her head, leaning back in her seat. "Yuck it up, clowns." She muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

They returned to the car dealership to find that Timothy Ellis was back and was standing beside a shiny new Mercedes, in his expensive suit, trying to schmooze a middle aged woman into buying a silver convertible.

The siblings watched from a distance, parked in the street in front of the car lot.

"Doesn't seem too torn up about his dead girlfriend, does he?" Dean commented as they watched him throw his head back and give a hearty laugh. They watched as the woman took Timothy's business card and slipped back behind the wheel of her own car.

Dean, Sam and MJ approached him from behind as he watched the woman drive away.

"All that effort and no sale." Dean said shaking his head as they drew level with him.

He turned, the fake smile on his face faltering as he took in their appearance. "How can I help you?" He asked politely.

"Relax, we're not here to buy." Dean said, flashing his badge.

Timothy crossed his arms. "Gee, you don't say." He said sarcastically. He canted his head toward the Impala. "That rust bucket all the federal government can afford to give you guys?"

Sam stepped forward, sensing Dean was going to take that comment personally. "We need to speak to you about the accident last week, Mr. Ellis." Sam said, pulling out a small notebook.

Timothy fidgeted with his tie, scanning the lot. "We have to do this now, while I'm working?" He asked, clearly annoyed.

"Your girlfriend was murdered. In your apartment." Dean said, taking a step toward Timothy. "Not the kind of thing you can put on the back burner so you can make your monthly sales quota." He said, irritated.

"Where were you when the incident occurred?" Sam asked, pen poised, waiting for Timothy's response.

Timothy pulled at his tie again, clearly uncomfortable with this line of questioning. He looked around, like he was searching for a safe topic change. His eyes landed on MJ and he gave a weak smile. "What's this? Punky Brewster on a ride along?" he laughed at his own joke, seemingly unbothered that no one else found it remotely funny. "Trust me, cutie, you'd be better off in sales. Nine times outta ten, a hot body and a pretty face seals the deal." He paused to look her up and down. "I'd say you've got a future."

Dean reached out and grabbed ahold of Timothy's tie yanking him forward so he was hunched at a clearly uncomfortable angle. "And I'd say your future holds _my_ foot up _your_ ass if you don't cut the bullshit and answer our questions."

"Okay. Relax." Timothy held his hands up in surrender as Dean relinquished his hold and took a step back. "I'll answer your questions, but I don't know anything. Like I told the local police, I got off work at 5 and stopped at home. Susan wasn't home yet. Then I went to the gym, got back around 7:30, saw Susan for like, half an hour and then headed out for drinks with the guys. When I left she was doing laundry. That's it."

"Did anything seem unusual that day or the days leading up to it? Any strange happenings in the apartment?"

Timothy gave Sam a weird look. "Like what?"

Sam shrugged. "Strange noises or…smells?"

Timothy shook his head. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Just answer the question." Dean ordered in a loud voice.

"No." Timothy spat. "Now is that everything? I really have to go." He looked down at his left wrist, like he was checking the time, but his wrist was bare. He blinked and dropped his arm, sighing.

MJ saw the obvious tan line on his wrist, and something stirred in her head. The neighbor said they'd lived together for months…

Dean was handing Timothy his fake business card and taking one in exchange. "Call if you think of anything. And you'd better pick up if we call you or we'll be showin' up here again." He threatened.

Timothy turned back toward the dealership, stuffing Dean's card into his breast pocket.

"What happened to your watch?" MJ called after him. He stopped, but didn't turn back right away. His whole body stiffened. Slowly, he faced her. "I lost it. Haven't had a chance to get another one yet."

MJ took a step toward him. "If you lived with Susan, then why wasn't there a single article of men's clothing anywhere in her apartment?"

"What?" Timothy asked with a nervous chuckle.

MJ fixed him with an accusing glare. "You broke up." She said, clearly not a question. "She kicked you out."

Timothy shook his head emphatically, taking a step backward, away from MJ. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I bet she dumped you that night," MJ continued. "She got rid of all of your shit while you were at the gym," she pointed to his wrist, "including your watch, and confronted you when you got home."

Timothy had stopped playing dumb and was going for pissed instead. He took a step toward MJ, his face set like stone, and without hesitation Dean planted himself between the man and his sister with a warning look at Timothy. "Confronted me? Kid, you have no idea what you're talking about! I'm done answering questions, just get out of here!" He shouted.

Dean shoved him back away from MJ. "That's enough." He warned.

MJ held her ground, seemingly unfazed by Timothy's outburst. Her eyes narrowed as she looked closely at him. "You cheated, didn't you?" She asked, shaking her head. "You cheated and you got caught. That's why she trashed all your stuff." MJ continued with the air of someone who had just solved a difficult puzzle.

She knew she was right when he just sputtered incoherently in response, flushing bright red. It took him a few moments to form a response. "So what if I did? It doesn't make me a killer. The cops already checked with my gym, I was there. I'm innocent."

MJ actually laughed at this. "You may not be a killer, but you're far from innocent, pal."

Timothy's jaw clenched and he took a deep breath, like he was trying to control his temper. "Are we done here?" He asked in a clipped tone.

"Just don't go far." Sam said by way of dismissal.

MJ watched Timothy as he stalked angrily back toward the dealership. Once he was out of sight she turned to find her brothers staring at her with identical impressed, somewhat disbelieving looks on their faces.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked as they walked back to the Impala.

MJ shrugged. "I don't know. I just knew something was off."

"What made you so sure he was cheating?" Sam asked.

MJ hesitated, still trying to figure that out for herself. "I don't know. It was just like a gut feeling." She paused, not sure how to say it. "To be honest, that song was sort of my biggest clue." She confessed.

"What song?" Dean asked, pausing with his hand on the car door handle.

"That Beyoncé song." Dean continued to give her a bewildered look. "You know, the one I was singing at Susan's apartment. The one that was blaring on your radio when we got back in the car."

A car crept by them, slowing for the red light up ahead. Its windows were down, and MJ's eyes nearly popped out of her head when she heard the music coming from inside it.

_Standing in the front yard telling me  
>How I'm such a fool, talking about<br>How I'll never ever find a man like you  
>You got me twisted<em>

_You must not know 'bout me_  
><em>You must not know 'bout me<em>

MJ jabbed her finger in the direction of the car. "That song!" She yelled. The light changed and the car continued on, leaving the three siblings looking after it, wondering what the hell was going on in this town.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"This one was the first." Sam said, holding up one of the file folders, his eyes still on his laptop screen. "Ten days ago. College student. She was home alone, in her room at her parents' house. Her brother went to check on her when he got home and found her dead." He said, reciting from memory. Dean sat across from him at the small table in the motel lobby, looking toward the hallway that led to their room. He clearly wasn't listening to a word Sam was saying.

Sam put the file back on the table and looked up at his brother. "Dean." He said sharply.

Dean reluctantly turned to Sam. "What?"

Sam's expressions softened when he saw worry in Dean's eyes. "She's fine, Dean. We salted the door and windows. She's got her cell phone. She's barely fifty yards away." Sam placated.

Dean turned in his chair, resting his arms on the table, folding his hands together as Sam returned his attention to his computer. "What do you think they're talking about?" Dean asked.

Sam sighed, checking the time. MJ was halfway through her first counseling session. Sam and Dean had vacated the room and promised to keep their distance until she came and got them.

"It's only an hour, Dean. Just relax." Sam said. He picked the file folder back up and smacked Dean in the arm with it. "And try and focus."

Dean glared at Sam, yanking the folder from his hand. "Adrian Dunham, nineteen." Dean read from the police report, before flipping to the pictures. He cringed a little at the photos, not because they were particularly gruesome. He took in the girl's small frame, reddish brown hair and green, lifeless eyes. She didn't bear a strong resemblance to MJ, but these similar traits were enough to put him on edge.

Sam, seeing that Dean couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the crime scene photos, pulled the file form Dean's hand and closed it. "The brother told the police that she had broken up with her boyfriend the night before and things got pretty ugly. The Sheriff's Department interviewed the boyfriend, but didn't charge him."

"They didn't think he did it?" Dean asked, skeptical. He would have thought the cops would latch onto any possible suspects in a case like this.

"Rock solid alibi. He was two hours away in Sioux City at a concert all night." Sam answered.

"Why'd they break up?" Dean asked.

Sam shrugged. "It's not in the police report." He flipped through the third and final file.

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that," Dean snatched a page from the file in Sam's hand, earning himself an annoyed look. "Valerie Samson had just broken up with her boyfriend before she was killed."

Sam shook his head. "Well, they interviewed her roommate, her parents," Sam said, skimming the file. "No mention of here even having a boyfriend at all."

"Well, I guess we'll just have to go talk to them all again, see what else we can find out." Dean said. He looked up, handing the page back to Sam, whose eyes were focused behind Dean, an alarmed look on his face.

Dean turned in his chair to see MJ coming toward them, her eyes rimmed in red and her face blotchy, her expression unreadable. Dean stood quickly, closing the distance between himself and MJ. He held her at arm's length, examining her face.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He looked beyond her, down the hallway she had come from. It appeared to be deserted. He looked back down at his sister just in time to watch her face crumple as she dissolved into quiet sobs. Dean pulled her toward him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders, a hand at the back of her head as he continued to scan the lobby and hallway for the cause of her distress.

Sam stood beside them, looking worried. "What happened?" He asked Dean.

Dean shook his head in response. He placed his hands on either side of MJ's head, gently pulling her back so he could see her face. "What the hell happened, Kid?" Dean asked.

MJ shook her head. "Nothing." She took a step back, wiping at her face with her sleeve. "Nothing, I just- I'm sorry that's all."

Dean looked to Sam, totally at a loss.

"MJ, what do you have to be sorry for?" Sam asked her, a hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged, taking a shaky breath. "Everything. All the crap I've pulled. I know I'm a pain. And I know that if you guys weren't willing to put up with it, I'd be living in some crappy foster home somewhere." She paused to take another breath. "So I'm sorry I've been such a bitch."

Dean shook his head. "Whoa, whoa. You're not a bitch. Is that what that _therapist_ told you?" Dean asked, clearly angry.

"No, Dean it's nothing like that. We just talked about some…stuff…that happened before," MJ said cryptically. "And it made me realize how lucky I am to have you guys."

"Well, that clears it right up." Dean said sarcastically rolling his eyes as he looked over at Sam. Sam leveled a look at his brother and Dean blew out a breath before turning back to MJ.

"Like I told you before." Dean said to her, "We want you here, MJ. You're not a nuisance. And you definitely have nothing to be sorry for." He placed his hand under her chin, nudging her head up so she met his eyes. "Got it?" He asked.

Dean pulled her into a hug, looking over at a still worried looking Sam, his eyes asking the silent question: _why won't she believe that we want her around?_


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, guys. Hope everyone had a wonderful holiday season. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story. Happy reading!**

"This isn't right." Sam said pushing the paper back in front of MJ. "Look, you've got the square root of 32 as 4.6, that's way off." Sam pointed out the error on the page, looking up at his sister to find her gazing out the window, her expression pensive and her attention on anything but trigonometry. He nudged her shoulder. "Hey. If you want to finish this sometime today, you need to pay attention." He gently scolded, handing her a pencil.

MJ reluctantly turned to Sam, her forehead creased in concern. She took the pencil with a sigh and leaned over the paper.

Sam was silent for a moment, watching her while she worked. It had been two days since MJ's first therapy session and Sam had noticed a difference in her. A difference that in his opinion, was not for the better. She seemed more polite, less demanding, more careful about how she approached her brothers. She had endured their two hour lessons each morning without so much as a single eye roll. Sam was all for manners and good behavior, but he didn't like where it seemed to be coming from: Fear. He suspected after her breakdown that night, right after her session that she was petrified of being sent away from them. In a way he was pissed at her. He could not fathom how after everything they had been through over the past eight months that she still did not trust that she was here to stay.

While she hadn't complained once, he did notice that she was not at all focused on her work. More often than not she was staring off into space, appearing to be deep in thought, as if she were contemplating all of the mysteries of the universe. Sam had decided he would not ask her about her change in demeanor. As much as it annoyed him to see her acting so withdrawn, he thought that for now it was best not to confront her about it. He had shared this opinion with Dean who had almost immediately dismissed it. If Sam was frustrated, it was nothing to how Dean seemed to be fairing. Dean's theory, and he was quick to share it with Sam, was that they should force MJ to open up to them about what was bothering her, even if it meant shaking the truth out of her. Problem solved.

Sam couldn't help but grin now as he watched MJ rub out the incorrect answer, thinking about Dean's reaction. Dean was all about reacting. Shoot first, ask questions later. This was often the best plan when hunting, but when it came to raising a teenager, Sam felt a more subtle approach was needed. He had tried to convince Dean that it was best to continue to try and show her through their actions that she was safe and could talk to them, rather than confront her and force it out of her. Trouble was, subtly was not in Dean Winchester's vocabulary.

"Where were you just now?" Sam asked MJ as she completed the problem and slid the paper back to Sam.

MJ shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. "Just thinking about the case. Wondering what Dean got from Valerie's family." She responded. Sam knew she wasn't being completely truthful.

As if on cue, they heard a key in the door and then Dean entered, his tie loose and his jacket slung over his shoulder.

"It's hotter than hell out there." He said by way of greeting, kicking off his shoes. "I swear real cops should get hazard pay for having to wear these monkey suits in the dead of summer." He shucked off his pants and unbuttoned his shirt as he fiddled with the thermostat, turning up the AC.

"Ew, Dean. Pants?" MJ complained, shielding her eyes from the sight of her eldest brother walking around in his boxers.

"Get over it." Dean called over his shoulder, as he stood in front of the AC vent, trying to cool off.

"What'd you get?" Sam asked.

"Well, Valerie's parents, sisters, even her grandparents absolutely insist she wasn't seeing anyone. Which kind of blows our jilted boyfriend theory."

MJ frowned. Adrian's brother had confirmed that his sister had dumped her boyfriend the night before her death because she had caught him cheating. Just like Susan's boyfriend got the boot right before Susan was killed. While they knew the boyfriends hadn't actually killed them, MJ wasn't ready to give up on the possibility that their recent break ups were somehow related to their deaths.

"Did the family give you any friends you could follow up with? Maybe Valerie had a boyfriend that she didn't want her family to know about for some reason." Sam asked.

Dean pulled on a pair of jeans before walking over to the table and grabbing Valerie's police file. "No, and look." He said laying the open file in front of Sam on the table. "Even the roommate said she was single. If she was seeing someone she was hiding it well."

"Yeah, or the roommate's covering for Valerie for some reason." MJ muttered, not looking up from the math problem she was attempting.

Both brothers looked up at her for a moment before turning to one another. Dean raised his eyebrows in question and Sam shrugged in response. "Worth a try." Sam said, closing up the file. "We're just finishing up. We'll go with you." He said getting up from the table.

"_Yes_." MJ said, relieved to be done with trig for the day as she snapped her book shut.

"Okay, but let's forgo the suits. Even feds must do casual Friday, right?" Dean asked hopefully, clearly dreading the idea of putting the tie and jacket back on.

"Hey, as long as we have badges and a pushy attitude, I'm pretty sure you could show up in those Scooby Doo boxers and still get answers." Sam teased. MJ grinned, but stayed quiet.

"I don't own Scooby Doo boxers." Dean defended, as they headed out the door. "But if I did they'd have Daphne front and center." He said with a smirk. "Mmmm, Daphne."

* * *

><p>Sara, Valerie's housemate, was in the middle of moving when they arrived. A moving truck was parked out front and there were boxes everywhere, throughout the house. She seemed pissed to see them right from the get go. Her anger only intensified when Sam asked her about Valerie's romantic life.<p>

"I don't understand why I have to answer these questions again." Sara was packing boxes in the living room, angrily throwing items around. "I already told the police everything."

"I'm sorry to put you through this again, but we just want to be thorough so we can determine exactly what happened to Valerie." Sam said calmly. "You're sure Valerie wasn't seeing anyone?"

"Not that she told me about." Sara said, walking quickly from the living room into the kitchen and beginning to empty her cupboards. Dean gave Sam an exasperated look before the three siblings followed after her.

"Did you ever suspect she was seeing someone in secret?" Dean asked.

"Why would she do that?" Sara said, not looking up. Sam noticed that her hands were shaking furiously.

"Maybe the guy was married or something and so she had to keep it quiet." MJ suggested.

Sara suddenly lost her grip on the glass in her hand and it fell to the floor, smashing instantly.

"Shit." Sara spat, her face flushing and eyes welling up with tears. She bent to clean it up, her breath hitching as she began to sob. Sam stooped down, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Leave it. Come sit down." Sam guided her to a kitchen chair, while MJ retrieved a broom and Dean picked up the larger pieces of the shattered glass, placing them in the trash.

Sam sat across from Sara at the small kitchen table. "I know this is difficult, but we need to know what happened." Sam said in a quiet, reassuring tone.

Sara looked up at him, but said nothing. Sam just looked back at her, waiting for her to speak.

Finally, when Dean was ready to threaten to arrest her, Sara opened her mouth.

"Valerie and I were more than roommates. She was my girlfriend." Sara began. Dean paused in his cleaning, to stare openmouthed at the young woman. MJ had to elbow him, hard, in the ribs to get him to stop gawking. Sam only nodded, encouraging Sara to continue. "She had never been with a woman before and she wasn't ready to tell her family, so we kept it secret." Sara paused to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. "Two days before…I told her that I had slept with my ex-girlfriend. I didn't want to lie to her anymore, it was killing me. She was angry and she asked me to leave, so I did. The night of the accident I came back here to grovel, to beg her to take me back. She couldn't forgive me so I left." Sara looked up at Sam, her face contorted in hurt and anger. "The last time I saw her she told me that I broke her heart." Sara dissolved into sobs. Sam handed her a tissue and waited for her to compose herself before asking another question.

"That night you came back, did anything unusual happen. Anything at all that seemed odd or out of place to you?"

If Sara found the question strange, she didn't show it. She shook her head. "Val locked herself in her room and I tried to talk to her through the door, but she blasted her stereo, so I just…left."

Sam shared a look with Dean and MJ. MJ took a step toward Sara.

"This may seem like a strange question, but do you remember what song was playing when you left?" MJ asked.

Sara looked up at her, her brow furrowed in confusion. She looked back to Sam, as if asking him if this girl was serious. Sam nodded for her to answer.

"Yeah, it was that Beyoncé song. I thought it was weird because we both hate pop music." Sara shrugged. "I figured maybe she could relate to it, though." She said, her voice riddled with guilt. She took a deep breath, and gave Sam a determined look. "Look, since this really couldn't possibly have anything to do with how she was killed, can you keep it off the record? She didn't want to be outed, and I want to respect her wishes."

Sam nodded. "Of course. I don't think there's any need to include the…details in our official report."

* * *

><p>"Official report, huh Sammy?" Dean asked as they walked back to the Impala. "Kinda wasting the charm there, wouldn't you say? I mean she plays for the other team." He said with a smirk.<p>

"Shut it, Dean. I wasn't flirting, I was being human. Giving the poor girl some peace of mind." Sam defended.

Dean chuckled. "Whatever you say, Sammy." Sam just glared at Dean as they got into the car.

MJ leaned forward over the seat back, her head between her brothers as Dean started the Impala. "_What_ is with this song?" She asked, frustrated.

Dean turned to glance at her before returning his attention to the road. He was glad to see she was expressing an interest in the case. He hadn't seen her animated about anything in two days. It was a small victory, but he'd take it.

"Okay," Sam said, turning sideways in his seat to face both siblings. "We have three victims, all of whom had just broken up with their significant other for cheating."

"And all three got a wardrobe makeover courtesy of Edward Scissorhands." MJ added. She had excused herself to use the bathroom and checked Valerie's closet finding all of Valerie's clothes in the same state as Susan and Adrian's.

"And _Irreplaceable_ was playing when all three were killed." Sam finished.

Dean snorted a laugh. "So, what, they're all pissed and scorned and put on this crappy pop song and it summons the spirit?" He asked, clearly skeptical.

Sam shook his head. "No. I think the spirit is _making_ the song play. You heard Sara. Valerie didn't listen to that kind of music. And it would explain why MJ suddenly had it in her head at Susan's apartment and why it was blaring in the Impala when we left there."

"So we're looking for a spirit with shitty taste in music?"

Sam and MJ gave Dean identical admonishing glares.

"Okay, okay," Dean gave in. "So the spirit, for some reason, is linked to the song." He theorized.

"Yeah, that makes sense." MJ said, her eyes wide. "I mean, in Susan's apartment, it was like the song was invading my head. I could barely think straight it was so intense."

Sam cast a worried glance at his sister. So far, the spirit hadn't affected anyone else in this way. Why was MJ so sensitive to it? Sam's gaze shifted to Dean and he saw his own worry reflected in his brother's eyes.

Sam noticed MJ eyeing him suspiciously and cleared his throat. "Spirits are often drawn to strong emotions. Not much breeds more rage, hurt and anguish than being cheated on."

"It's not just that, though." MJ said thoughtfully. "They weren't just pissed, they were all determined that they weren't going to forgive their partner. That's a pretty specific emotion."

Sam smiled at his sister. "How'd you get so smart?"

She blushed slightly, returning his smile. "I guess I take after my brother."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me." Dean said.

"Ha!" MJ shook her head, sitting back in her seat. "So what now?" She asked.

"Well the first killing was thirteen days ago. So we need to look at deaths around that time that might have resulted in this type of angry spirit."

"Ah, yes, the garden variety adultery-victim killing spirit." Dean said sarcastically.

"You have a better idea?" Sam asked.

Dean made no response as they pulled into the motel parking lot, but then as his siblings made to get out of the car, he threw his hand up. "Wait!" He all but shouted. "I do have a better idea."

Sam looked at him, unconvinced. "Yeah, what's that?"

"Food." Dean said with a smirk. "I'm freakin' starving, man."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Okay, but let me grab my computer so I can do some research while we eat."

"Hurry up!" Dean yelled after him. He adjusted the rearview mirror so he could see MJ reflected in it. She was sitting quietly in her seat, arms folded, gazing thoughtfully out the window. Dean turned in his seat so he was facing her, draping one arm over the seat in a would-be casual gesture. It was wasted on MJ who could tell from one look at Dean's face that he was nervous. He cleared his throat, and MJ gave him her full attention, waiting.

"I talked to Jenna while I was out this morning. You have another session tomorrow night." He said evenly, not sure how she would react to this news. "The therapist wants to see you twice a week for now." He added when she remained silent, just looking at him.

He noticed that her face grew paler and her mouth was set in a firm line, but this was her only real reaction. She gave a quick nod and muttered "okay" before returning her attention to her window.

Dean turned back around in his seat, heaving a great sigh. He hadn't known what her reaction would be, but he had anticipated some sort of actual emotion. Anger, anxiety, hell even waterworks would have been better than what he got. Finding himself at his breaking point with the entire situation, Dean quickly got out of the car slamming the door behind him. He took to pacing the parking lot until Sam emerged from their room, case files and laptop in hand.

Sam stopped short when he caught sight of Dean, wearing a hole in the pavement between the Impala and the sidewalk. "What's wrong?" He asked him as he looked to the Impala, making sure MJ was safe inside. "What happened?"

"Nothing happened, Sammy!" Dean said in a harsh whisper. "That's the problem!" With that Dean got back in the car, waiting for Sam to do the same.

The drive to the diner was silent, but tense, Dean's eyes never wavering from the road. MJ said nothing, but Sam could tell she was well aware of Dean's frustration and the fact that it seemed to be caused by her. Sam wondered how much longer the two of them could keep this up. MJ keeping everything bottled up inside and Dean keeping his cool and not exploding on her. Sam knew it was only a matter of time before it came to blows, yet again, and he wasn't stupid enough to think he had any chance of preventing it.

Once they had ordered their lunch, MJ took to perusing the case files while Sam opened his computer and began researching deaths around the time that Adrian Dunham was killed. He worked in silence for several minutes. Dean's patience expired when the waitress brought their drinks.

"Find anything?" he asked before adding cream to his coffee.

"Yeah, too much." Sam answered. "There's way too many deaths to look through all of them." He shook his head, gesturing toward the screen. "Even if I narrow it down to just the week before that's over fifty people. This could take a while."

"17-2(3)…what is that?" MJ muttered reading from one of the files. She flipped a few pages, her eyes going wide. "Noise ordinance." She said answering her own question. She looked up at her brothers. "Sam, can you access police reports for the week or so before Adrian's death?" She asked.

Sam nodded. He looked around the diner, making sure no one was close enough to catch wind of what he was doing. "Yeah, I think I can hack into them, why?"

"When the police got called the nights of Adrian and Valerie's deaths, the calls were dispatched as Noise Ordinance complaints. Patrick reported that he heard screaming in Susan's apartment so her call was dispatched as a welfare check, but we know the music was blaring when she died." She said, scooting closer to Sam so she could see his computer screen.

Dean straightened in his seat, catching on. "So maybe our ghost was killed while that sappy, crap song was playing and someone made a noise complaint to the police."

Sam was clicking away now, occasionally glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He gave a nervous sigh. "You know we could just go down the street and ask Chief Carr for the records. It's a little less illegal."

Dean snorted a laugh. "Yeah, he was jumping out of his seat to give us a hand, I'm sure he'd get right on it." He said sarcastically.

Sam quickly snapped the laptop shut when the waitress returned with their food. He gave her a polite smile while he waited for her to depart, quickly opening the computer and continuing his search once she had turned away.

Dean dug into his burger, casting the occasional glance at Sam, while MJ just picked at her chicken fingers, too anxious to see what Sam had found to eat. After what seemed like an eternity, Sam looked up at them, his eyes alight. "Here we go." He said.


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N:** **Welcome back! So I was a little less than thrilled with some of my recent chapters, but I'm feeling like this is getting back on track. Hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think:)**

Dean and MJ's eyes were fixed on Sam as he turned the laptop around so they could see the police report he was reading.

"Two days before Adrian was killed, this guy James Wettering was found dead outside of his girlfriend's apartment building. He had bled to death, and police determined he had been trying to climb the drain pipe on the outside of the building to access the girlfriend's apartment. He must have fallen and died from internal bleeding from his injuries. Police only found him by chance. They were there on a noise complaint." Sam said turning the computer back around so he could see the screen.

"Loud music?" Dean asked, unconsciously leaning toward Sam.

Sam nodded scrolling through the police report. "Coming from Anna Green's apartment." He looked up at his siblings again, face flush with excitement. "Anna was James' girlfriend. The report concludes that James likely bled out for hours before he died, but couldn't yell for help or move to where he could be seen."

Dean clapped his hands together. "Sounds like the makings of a vengeful spirit to me."

"Girlfriend or ex-girlfriend?" MJ asked. She was already wiping off her hands, in anticipation that they would be hauling ass to Anna's apartment.

Sam was jotting down Anna's address quickly. He shrugged. "Says girlfriend."

Dean pulled out his wallet throwing money on the table and getting up quickly from the booth as Sam closed his laptop and slid it back into his bag.

"Twenty bucks says Anna had just dumped James for slippin' someone else the snake." Dean said before signaling the waitress and asking for a to-go box with a charming smile on his face.

Sam and MJ paused, standing next to the booth, both giving Dean disbelieving looks.

"Really, Dean?" Sam asked of Dean's choice of metaphors.

Dean only shrugged in response as he dumped their food into the Styrofoam containers and made his way to the door.

* * *

><p>Anna's apartment was on the third floor of a well maintained, comfortable looking apartment building just outside of the Lincoln city limits. On the drive over, they had decided that Sam would stay in the car and research where James was buried. That way if he was their spirit, they wouldn't waste time with the research after the fact. Dean and MJ were making their way up the final flight of stairs, MJ falling behind slightly despite her efforts to match her much taller brother's strides.<p>

"If this checks out we'll head right to the cemetery and burn this bastard." Dean said over his shoulder as he reached the third floor landing. He waited, hand on the stairwell door, for MJ to catch up. "I'm not gonna wait around for him to kill again. I'm itchin' to end this." He said.

MJ climbed the final step, slightly out of breath. She thought idly about how her new rules had made it impossible for her to run unless Sam was going, too. The result was that she could barely keep up with Dean who did nothing but eat bacon cheeseburgers and drink hard liquor. Dean noticed her slightly irritated expression as she walked through the doorway ahead of him.

"Because I'm awesome." Dean said simply, correctly reading her expression.

MJ scoffed, but otherwise made no response.

Dean frowned as he knocked on the door to 307. The MJ he knew would have had some quick, witty retort. The fact that she had said nothing frustrated him and he had to bite his tongue as he waited for Anna to answer her door.

* * *

><p>Dean was ready to break his own rule about not hitting women. They had been invited inside and were seated in the living room across from Anna Green, who could do nothing, it seemed, but cry hysterically. In the few seconds reprieve from sobbing that they seemed to get once every minute or so, all Anna could manage to tell them was what a wonderful, caring, kind person James was and how much she missed him.<p>

Dean realized pretty quickly that if they were ever going to get out of there he would have to skip most of the routine FBI questions they usually opened with in the interest of keeping up appearances. Ten minutes in he went for the important stuff, not really caring at this point if she became suspicious.

Not waiting for a break in the waterworks, Dean talked over Anna's wailing trying not to sound irritated. "Ms. Green, in your police statement you said you didn't know why James would have tried to sneak into your apartment instead of coming to the door."

She nodded in response, blowing her nose loudly.

"Is there any reason he may have thought you wouldn't let him in? Had you two had a fight?"

She paused mid blow, looking over the tissue at Dean. "Of course not." She said, clearly offended at the idea that she and James ever so much as disagreed about anything.

MJ knew right then that Anna was lying. She also knew with certainty that the woman was in denial, and that no matter what Dean said or did, she was not going to admit that James had cheated on her.

Dean took advantage of Anna's break from hysterics to ask another question. "He had a key, right? Why not come to the front door?"

Anna took a shaky breath. "Well, maybe he wanted to surprise me. I would have heard the front door." She said, though MJ could see she seemed less than confident in her statement.

"Well, it sounds like you had your stereo going pretty loud. Seems like he could have surprised you coming in the front door." Dean said confidently. MJ knew he was trying to shake her up, get her to break.

Anna bristled, sitting up a little in her chair as she dabbed at her eyes. "How would he have known the music was so loud from all the way downstairs?" She asked, scowling at him. She gave him a victorious look.

Dean was undeterred by her reasoning. "Do you always listen to your music loud enough to cause the neighbors to call the police?" He pushed.

"I don't know. I didn't realize how loud it was."

"Any particular reason it was so loud _that_ night?"

"No." She snapped.

"Do you remember what you were listening to?" Dean was firing off the next question as soon as she answered the previous one, giving her no time to fabricate answers.

"I don't remember."

"Maybe Beyonce?" He asked.

"I don't know."

"Was James unfaithful, Anna?" Dean practically demanded.

Anna stood quickly, eyes livid, boring into Dean, who remained seated and seemingly at ease in his chair.

"Get out." She said firmly, raising her arm to point at the door.

Dean stood slowly, careful to appear relaxed and unfazed. "Are you sure you and James hadn't had a fight?"

"Now!" Anna insisted, still pointing at the door, her hand shaking slightly.

MJ stood, frustrated. Anna was undoubtedly lying about something, but what if it wasn't about James cheating on her? They had no time for these games. If they were wrong, they needed to know so they could move on.

Dean nodded toward Anna. "Thanks for your time." He said shortly, before gesturing to MJ to lead the way out.

MJ turned away from Anna, but stopped suddenly. A weird sensation had started somewhere behind her navel and seemed to be growing. She felt almost lightheaded at the realization of what she needed to do. She was as determined to try it as she was unsure of whether it could even work. But something in her gut was telling her it would. She turned back toward Anna, taking a hesitant step forward, closing the short distance between them. She ignored Dean's confused look.

They had to know for sure…

Without further hesitation MJ took a deep breath and reached out, closing her right hand around Anna's forearm. The sensation was instant and oddly familiar, despite her only experiencing it one other time. The room tilting, the sudden roaring that filled her ears, even the tightness in her chest, constricting her breathing seemed almost like something she experienced daily. MJ barely had time to register Anna's shocked expression before the room around her went blurry and seemed to disappear. She felt her feet leave the floor as the images flew by in front of her.

_Anna opening a door and seeing a man and woman in bed together…Anna driving, fiercely wiping tears from her face as she checked her phone and threw it back down, a look of disgust on her face…Anna talking to the same man outside her apartment building. MJ hadn't realized that the roaring had dulled, but she plainly heard Anna's shout that it was over, before she stormed inside…Anna in her room setting her stereo to repeat, blaring _Irreplaceable_…the bedroom window open behind Anna, right over the spot where James would have been found…_

The room around MJ abruptly reappeared and came slowly back into focus. She realized she was kneeling on the floor, Dean crouched beside her, holding her up, clearly confused and worried. MJ gasped for air as she looked up at Anna, standing in front of her looking equal parts pissed and frightened.

"You okay?" Dean asked MJ, his voice betraying just how scared he was for his sister.

Before MJ could make any response Anna was screaming down at them.

"I don't know who the _hell_ you people are, but you have ten seconds to get out of my fucking house before I call the_ real_ cops!" She shouted.

Dean's eyes shot up and the glare he sent Anna's way was enough to make her take a step back.

Dean stood and bent down, scooping MJ up off the floor and carrying her bridal style toward the door. Anna was more than happy to show them out, slamming the door behind them.

MJ rested her head on Dean's shoulder and wrapped her arms around his neck, the vision already taking its toll on her physically. She was starting to feel exceptionally weak and there was a dull throbbing in her head growing stronger by the second.

"James is our guy. I saw it." She managed as Dean made his way into the stairwell and back down the stairs, careful not to jostle his sister. MJ was so exhausted that she was oblivious to the tension radiating off of Dean as he held her close to him.

Dean was feeling her full weight by the time he reached the lobby. She was relatively light, but rushing down three flights of stairs with MJ practically passed out in his arms had been no easy feat. Dean thought of putting her down to rest for a moment, but knew Anna had probably called the police as soon as she slammed the door behind them. This thought in mind, he kicked the front door open and made his way outside, grateful beyond words that Sam saw him the moment he emerged and rushed toward them.

"What happened? Is she okay?" He asked, alarmed as he reached them.

Dean's only response was to pass MJ off to his brother and continue moving quickly toward the Impala.

"Shag ass, Sammy. Cops." Dean called, and Sam quickly followed behind Dean, shifting MJ in his arms as they reached the car so he could load her into the backseat.

"Sam." Dean said opening the driver's door.

"I got her." Sam responded, climbing in the car beside MJ, who was awake, but just barely and looked far too pale for her brother's liking. Sam had barely closed the back door behind him when Dean threw the car into gear and sped off. Sam repositioned MJ so she was lying back, her head against the opposite door, his jacket serving as a makeshift pillow beneath her head, her feet resting on his lap. He reached over, putting a hand to her cheek, the other brushing the hair back away from her face. He noticed her skin was cold and clammy. She was looking up at him from under heavy eyelids, her oddly peaceful, unconcerned face contrasting with the emotions radiating off of her brothers. A small smile graced her face. "Dean, what the hell happened in there?" Sam asked again, this time more urgently. He was fairly certain he already knew the answer. He had seen his sister in this state once before, but he hoped he was mistaken.

Dean glanced over his shoulder at MJ and quickly returned his attention to the road before answering in a low growl. "She had another fucking vision." Dean seemed to be taking his anger and frustration out on the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening with the force of his grip.

Sam was taken aback by Dean's tone. He didn't sound worried as much as he sounded…pissed. Sam didn't dwell on it though, returning his attention to MJ. She was shielding her eyes with her hand, despite the fact that the sun was setting and it was not at all bright outside. She turned her head slightly toward the front of the car, her hand still hovering over her eyes. "Dean, I'm sorry." She said quietly. Her voice sounded tired, but not at all contrite.

Sam opened his mouth to tell her she had nothing to be sorry about, when he was cut off by Dean's angry shout.

"Oh, you're sorry, huh? Well, that changes things!" He spat sarcastically, eyes never leaving the road.

"Dean!" Sam admonished, shocked at his brother's response. He looked to MJ to see her reaction and she was wincing, holding her head. This only made Sam angrier at his brother. He was careful not to shout, though, seeing that it was bothering MJ's obviously pounding head. "This isn't her fault. She didn't ask for this." He said evenly, despite the fury boiling just below the surface.

Dean was shaking his head jerkily from side to side before Sam had even finished speaking. "She did it on purpose, Sam!" Dean yelled just as loudly as before. "She grabbed hold of that woman's arm knowing _full well_ what was going to happen!"

"Stop yelling, Dean. You're making her headache worse." Sam said, though without any real heat. Dean's explanation had diminished his anger, replacing it with shock and confusion.

"Well, too bad! She should have thought of that before she decided to play fortuneteller on a whim! Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" The last part was clearly directed toward MJ.

"Dean, please." She had her eyes screwed up tight against the light, her hands clasped over her ears. "Please stop screaming. If this headache gets any worse I think I might throw up."

"Serves you right." Dean said, but in a much quieter voice. No doubt giving in at least in part to save his Impala from being defiled by vomit. No one spoke a word after that. Sam reached out, taking hold of MJ's hand. She held it tightly as she drifted off to sleep. Dean was driving in no particular direction to put distance between them and Anna's apartment building. Eventually he pulled to the side of a deserted back road and cut the engine.

Dean just sat there, staring straight ahead for a minute or two, his expression unreadable. Sam watched his brother, waiting for him to say something.

"So where is this guy buried?" Dean finally asked, still not turning around. Sam could hear the carefully reigned in anger in Dean's voice.

Sam took a moment before answering, still studying his brother's face. "Malcolm Cemetery. It's about 15 minutes from here…I think. I'm not really positive where we are right now." Sam said quietly, looking out the window at the clearly rural area they had driven to. "But he's not buried."

That got Dean's attention and he whipped his head around to face his brother. "Huh?"

"He's in the Wettering family mausoleum."

"Oh." Dean said, turning back around. "Good. No digging." Dean pulled a map of the state and a flashlight from the glove box. He flipped on the flashlight and began looking over the map. "Should be dark enough soon." He commented.

Sam watched his brother for another moment before asking, "She really touched this woman hoping she would have a vision?" Sam asked, still not really believing it.

Dean nodded, lowering the map. He took a calming breath before answering. "Just out of nowhere. We were halfway out the door and she just – reached out and…" Dean sighed. "Scared the shit out of me, Sam." Dean admitted, shaking his head. "I didn't know what was happening." He added quietly.

"I know." Sam said honestly. _All too well_, he added silently.

They were silent for a moment, Dean resuming his review of the map. "She asleep?" He asked.

Sam tried to hide his smile. No matter how pissed Dean got, he was still worried about his siblings. Sam knew that Dean's need to take care of MJ and keep her safe was where the anger came from in the first place, so he really couldn't be too hard on Dean for freaking out on her.

"Yeah, she's been out for about twenty minutes." Sam answered. "If it's like last time she should feel a lot better when she wakes up." He added hopefully.

Dean nodded silently, not looking up. "Let's just get this taken care of." He said replacing the map and flashlight in the glove compartment and starting the car.

Sam sighed, sitting back in the seat. He knew from Dean's tone that nothing had really changed. Dean was still pissed as all hell at the stunt MJ had pulled. That added to his already wearing patience at her overall lack of emotion was bound to result in them coming to blows. This was far from settled. The only remaining question was not _if_, but _when_ it would finally come to a head between them. For now, they had something more pressing to focus on. When this distraction was put to rest…Sam sighed quietly, unconsciously squeezing MJ's hand as she slept on.


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Why must I have responsibilties and obligations that require me to get up off the couch and close the lap top? No fair:( Oh well...I supposed it's healthy to join the three dimensional world from time to time. Enjoy:)**

They arrived at the cemetery a little over twenty minutes later, Dean silently thanking God that James Wettering's grave was in a rural cemetery rather than one of the city cemeteries, where they would never be able to take care of this undetected. It was now completely dark out and Dean drove slowly through the cemetery while Sam shined a light out the window to better read the names on the markers. They located the Wettering family mausoleum somewhere near the center of the graveyard, surrounded by a handful of gravestones and a wrought iron fence. Dean pulled up as close as he could and cut the engine.

MJ was still fast asleep while the brothers rummaged through the trunk, gathering the needed supplies. Dean eyed the section of the graveyard while he loaded salt rounds into his shotgun.

"Pretty fancy digs for a bunch of dead people." He commented.

Sam nodded. "It used to be tradition for families with money to spare no expense when it came to burial. Nice plots, fences and gates. It was considered a good investment."

"Well, just 'cause it's high end doesn't make me feel any more guilty about desecrating it." Dean said, closing the trunk.

Sam smirked, canting his head toward the car. "Should we wake her?" He asked.

Dean nodded. "Can't leave her out here alone. She'll have to hang out inside." Dean's eyes were hard and his tone unfeeling. Sam took notice that Dean was referring to MJ as if she were a burdensome civilian he had been charged to look after. Sam frowned at his brother and considered calling him out. He quickly changed his mind, deciding that was a conversation for later. Right now they needed to focus on finishing this thing off.

Dean took the bolt cutters from Sam. "Hopefully it'll be quick." He said heading toward the gate.

Sam opened the back door and nudged MJ awake. She sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes. Sam's stomach clenched at how young and fragile she looked at the moment, her cheeks rosy and her hair a mess of tangles around her face. He dreaded bringing her inside with them, but knew Dean was right. They couldn't leave her alone in the car, especially with the possibility that a demon had her in his sights.

"We're here." He said quietly, straightening up outside her door. "Feeling better?" he asked as she got slowly out of the car.

She nodded up at him, her expression neutral. "Headache's almost gone." She said.

Sam closed the car door behind her and grabbed the accelerant and salt before leading the way toward the mausoleum where Dean had already snapped off the padlock using the bolt cutters and pushed the door open. The door opened with little resistance, most likely due to being used recently after James' funeral. Dean led the way into the tomb, clicking on his flashlight.

Dean's flashlight beam flooded over the room, revealing a dozen caskets lining the walls of the small stone building. Dean stopped just inside the door, scanning the room as Sam moved to his left, checking the small plaques on each coffin, identifying its occupant. MJ went to move around Dean to check the caskets on the right side wall. When she drew level with Dean, he threw out his right arm, halting her progress. She looked up at him, to find his eyes on her, his face unreadable. He jerked his head backward, toward the door they had just entered. "You stay back against the wall by the door. Don't move. I mean it." He held her gaze for a moment, his eyes hard. "Don't even _think_ about trying anything."

MJ didn't budge at first, just looking back at her brother. His order didn't surprise her in the least. In fact, she was shocked she was even being allowed to step foot inside the doorway. No, it wasn't his words that bothered her, but the way he had said them…and the way he looked at her.

MJ swallowed and silently nodded, taking her place to the right of the door. She crossed her arms over her chest and kept her eyes on Dean as he worked. She could feel Sammy's eyes on her, checking her reaction to Dean's harsh command. She couldn't afford one of Sammy's patented sympathetic looks right now, and so her focus never wavered from her eldest brother.

Dean shone the flashlight over the caskets against the back wall. Not finding James there he turned to the far right wall, bending down to read the names on the four coffins against that wall. After shining his light on the second coffin there, Dean gave a sharp, short whistle, one that Sam and MJ were trained to acknowledge immediately. Sam's head spun to look at Dean, who canted his head telling Sam he'd found their guy. As Sam made his way across the small room, Dean leveled a warning look at MJ: an unnecessary reminder that she was not to so much as wiggle her big toe in their direction. MJ barely managed to keep from rolling her eyes in response.

Dean grabbed his shotgun from its resting place on the floor and flipped it around, cocking his arm back, intent on using the butt of the gun to break the latches on the casket. Just as Dean began to bring the gun down to meet its target an earsplitting noise erupted all around them.

_To the left, to the left  
>Everything you own in the box to the left<br>In the closet that's my stuff, yes  
>If I bought it please don't touch<em>

_And keep talking that mess, that's fine_  
><em>But could you walk and talk at the same time?<em>

All three siblings' hands flew to their heads, trying to protect their ears from the deafening din. Dean's gun clattered to the floor. Dean threw a glance at MJ before locking eyes with his brother.

"He's here!" Sam shouted. Dean had no chance of hearing him over the music, but got the message loud and clear. He turned back to MJ quickly removing one hand from his head to motion toward the door.

"Get out!" He yelled. No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door to the crypt slammed shut.

MJ looked between her brothers and the door before yanking on the door handle with all her might. It didn't budge.

_And it's my name that's on that tag  
>So remove your bags let me call you a cab<em>

_Standin' in the front yard tellin' me_  
><em>How I'm such a fool, talkin' 'bout<em>  
><em>How I'll never ever find a man like you<em>  
><em>You got me twisted<em>

Dean let out a string of curses that, even muted, was impressive as he retrieved his gun and began his onslaught of the latch again. Sam stood beside him, eyes expertly scanning the crypt, shot gun at the ready. MJ stood frozen by the now sealed door, feeling naked and useless with no weapons.

_You must not know 'bout me  
>You must not know 'bout me<br>I could have another you in a minute  
>Matter fact he'll be here in a minute, baby<em>

It was nearly impossible to concentrate on anything, the music was so painfully loud, echoing off the walls of the tiny building. Dean let out a relieved groan when the latch gave. He quickly removed the broken lock and pulled the casket open.

Sam's attention turned toward the inside of the casket, and he placed his forearm to his face, trying to shield himself from the stench of the decomposing body. Dean turned to grab the accelerant and salt, glancing at MJ as he did. He froze, his eyes going wide in horror. She saw his mouth form her name, shouting a warning, but it was too late. Something cold and solid made contact with her left cheek, sending her flying to the floor, skidding to a halt as she crashed into the wall, face to the floor.

_So go ahead and get gone  
>Call up that chick and see if she's home<br>Oops, I bet ya thought that I didn't know  
>What did ya think I was puttin' you out for?<em>

MJ rolled onto her side slowly, rubbing at her left cheek bone, feeling like that side of her face had exploded. Her eyes were watering from the pain of the blow as she looked up, trying to make out her assailant.

His right fist was still raised in front of him and she barely had time to take in his livid, deranged eyes before he exploded into a cloud of dust. She turned to see Sammy standing a few feet to her right, shot gun raised and pointed at where the spirit had been standing. He quickly lowered the weapon and moved forward, extending his hand to MJ. She reached out to take it when James reappeared beside Sam. MJ opened her mouth to warn him, but James was quicker, pushing Sam back with such force that he lost his footing, falling backward, his head colliding with the corner of a casket.

_You must not know 'bout me  
>You must not know 'bout me<br>I will have another you by tomorrow  
>So don't you ever for a second get to thinkin'<br>You're irreplaceable_

"Sammy!" MJ shouted as she scrambled to her hands and knees, intent on getting to her clearly unconscious brother. Her progress was halted, however, when two legs appeared in front of her, blocking her path. She slowly raised her head, taking him in inch by inch. His entire body was quivering as he stared down at her with hate filled eyes. He was taking quick, shallow breaths, like it was a last ditch effort to control his flaring temper. MJ took in his face, and had a fleeting vision of what he might have been when he was alive: dark complexion, kind eyes. Handsome. But all of that was gone now. His eyes were lifeless and uncaring, his skin sallow and pale. A large blood stain covered the front of his shirt, and MJ couldn't help but stare at it as he reached down, grasping a handful of her hair in his fist and pulling her to her feet.

_So since I'm not your everything,  
>How about I'll be nothing? Nothing at all to you<br>Baby I won't shed a tear for you_

MJ whimpered in pain, her head pounding once again from the painfully loud music and the constant tugging as James held fast to her hair, leaning in close, just staring at her. She saw Dean move toward them out of her peripheral vision, shot gun raised, but he didn't even get a shot off before James had reached out with his left hand. It looked as though he barely touched Dean's chest, yet Dean was tossed backward with all the force of being struck by a car. He fell back into James' coffin and slid to the floor.

"Stop!" MJ shouted, but she knew he couldn't hear her. James reached out his free hand, sweeping it across her chest. She cringed back, expecting to feel a slice or a burn. She slowly opened her eyes when she realized she was unharmed and looked down. Her stomach plummeted when she saw her shirt and hoodie, torn across the middle, hanging open, the shreds of fabric dangling over her bare skin. MJ tried to cover herself back up, but the clothing was too destroyed. She watched in horror as James made another swiping motion, this time lower, across her thighs. She felt her jeans give as they too were ripped apart.

_I won't lose a wink of sleep  
>'Cause the truth of the matter is<br>Replacing you is so easy_

When James pulled her even closer, raising his hand to her chest, any thought of being modest went out the window, and she stopped trying to hold her clothes together, instead focusing on pushing James' hands away from her racing heart. She could see determination and fury plainly in his eyes. She held his wrist in her hands, trying in vain to hold him at bay, but he was far stronger than her. She knew what came next. He was going to reach into her chest and tear her heart into pieces. MJ looked around frantically. His grip on her hair was so tight she could barely turn her head, but she could see Sammy, lying on the floor behind James, completely still. She couldn't see Dean any longer. She felt tears well up in her eyes as James' fingers came into contact with her skin, instantly burning.

_To the left, to the left.  
>Everything you own in the box to the left<em>

_To the left, to the left._  
><em>Don't you ever for a second get to thinking<em>  
><em>You're irreplaceable.<em>

"Please." MJ begged, growling in pain as she felt his fingers burn through her skin. A pained sob escaped her lips, though no one heard it over the still blaring music.

Her obvious agony only seemed to encourage him and she saw the look in his eyes shift from angry to vindicated for a split second, before it was replaced by shock and horror. His eyes grew wide and he opened his mouth in a silent scream as fire seemed to engulf him. MJ felt the pain and burning subside as James was swallowed by the flames one moment, then vanished the next, leaving behind a pile of black ash and an eerie silence as the music came to an abrupt end.

MJ fell to her knees, her legs no longer able to support her weight. She turned to Dean, and saw the blazing fire within James' coffin. Dean was standing in front of the flames, his face ashen and set in a painful grimace. He was gripping his left thigh, which MJ realized was impaled by a piece of metal from the coffin latch he had broken.

"Oh my God, Dean!" MJ shouted, getting clumsily to her feet and starting toward him.

Dean threw out his hand, gesturing for her not to come any closer. "Don't look." He ordered.

MJ stopped in her tracks, knowing what Dean was about to do, and finding herself incapable of turning away. She stood there for a moment, paralyzed by fear and shock. She stared at Dean's leg another second, before suddenly remembering she was essentially naked, the tattered rags hanging from her body hardly qualifying as clothing. She quickly wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from Dean. That's when she caught sight of Sam, still lying motionless on the floor, a trickle of blood making its way across his forehead.

"Sammy!" She shouted, her voice breaking on a sob as she quickly made her way to him. She lowered herself to the floor beside him, pulling his head into her lap. "Sammy wake up." She pleaded. She heard Dean curse loudly behind her as she pressed the strips of fabric that had been her t-shirt to his bleeding forehead. She nearly laughed in relief when Sam stirred, his eyes fluttering as she kept one hand pressed firmly to the gash.

Dean limped toward his siblings, the left leg of his jeans torn and stained with blood. He knelt down next to MJ, inspecting Sam's wound.

"Sammy? You with us?" he asked, his voice breathless with worry and fatigue. His fingers moved gently over the linear gash, assessing the damage.

Sam grunted in response, his eyes finally opening to look up at MJ. She smiled tiredly back down at him, stroking her hand over his hair.

"Needs stitches." Dean muttered before looking up at MJ.

MJ felt his eyes on her, but kept her gaze on Sam. Dean reached out, cupping her left cheek with his hand, his thumb ghosting gently over the beginnings of a bruise there. MJ let her eyes flicker quickly toward her eldest brother, but he was looking down, taking in the state of her clothes. MJ quickly turned her gaze back to Sam, feeling her face reddening under Dean's touch. After a few seconds that felt like hours to MJ, Dean dropped his hand and quickly shrugged out of his light jacket, draping it over MJ's shoulders.

Sam was slowly sitting up, looking around him, his expression bewildered. He looked up at Dean, his eyebrows furrowed, waiting for Dean to tell him it was really over.

Dean stood, wincing slightly as he put weight on his still bleeding leg. "I toasted the fucker." He croaked before extending his hand and pulling Sam to his feet. Sam swayed slightly before gaining his balance, and shuffling after Dean toward the door, MJ's arm around his waist. He looked down at his sister, taking in her haggard appearance. "You okay?" He asked.

MJ just nodded, pulling Dean's jacket tighter around her. The adrenaline was wearing off, and she wasn't dumb enough to take Dean's concern for her well-being as a sign that she was forgiven. They had successfully finished a case, but absolutely nothing between them had been resolved.

MJ hated that instead of feeling the relief and sense of accomplishment that usually followed eliminating something evil, all she felt was dread and a sense of foreboding. She knew her recent behavior was absolutely ridiculous and self-destructive, but she just couldn't see any other way…

She felt slightly panicked when she considered her current situation. She was trying to fly under the radar, be less of a burden and more of a help to her brothers by keeping quiet and staying out of their way, but this only seemed to work to increase Dean's frustration and sour his already lousy moods. She'd clearly not helped matters by bringing on that vision, but if she was being honest with herself, that had very little to do with making Dean happy. That was about solving a case. After all, what was more important than doing their job and keeping people safe?


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Sorry I disappeared for a while. I've got 3-4 more chapters planned for Season 1 and then plan to continue on with Season 2. As always, thanks so much for reading. Enjoy!**

The good news was that Sam didn't seem to have a concussion. The bad news was that the cut at his hairline needed stitches, and Dean wasn't nearly as skilled in that area as Sam was. Sam contemplated asking Dean to drive him to a hospital to have an actual doctor sew up the wound. After all it was on his face and he didn't need a jagged, ugly scar on his forehead. But one look at Dean's face as he rummaged through the first aid kit told Sam that not only would arguing with Dean right now be a wasted effort, it would be downright dangerous. _Oh well_, he thought, _most of it will be hidden under my hair_.

Sam sat quietly on the bed, staying as still as he could while Dean worked the needle through his skin. He tried to think about something other than hideous disfigurement while Dean worked. He cast his eyes to the left, taking in MJ's sleeping form on the other bed. She had walked into the room ahead of him and made a beeline for the bed furthest from the door. She hadn't bothered undressing and was curled up on top of the covers, Dean's jacket wrapped tightly around her. She was lying on her side facing Sam, but her hair fell over her face, hiding it from view. Sam wondered how bad the bruising would be in the morning…

"I'm thinkin' one more." Dean muttered as he cut the thread, completing the fourth stitch.

Sam turned back toward Dean, watching him thread the needle once more. Dean glanced over at his sister while he worked.

"What's with the clothes? Why tear them apart?" Dean asked, taking hold of Sam's head and turning it toward the light.

Sam chuckled low in his throat. "MJ told me on the way back here. I guess that's something women do when they find out a guy is cheating on them. Take all their clothes and tear them up. Although she said it's usually tearing the crotch out of all of his pants." Sam said, opening his mouth just enough to get the words out to limit moving too much while Dean worked.

Dean shook his head. "I'm guessing that piece of work Anna had pulled that shit on James before he died." He shook his head, closing up the first aid kit. "I'll tell you one thing: If I never hear that God damn song again it'll be too soon." Sam grunted his agreement.

They were silent for a moment as Dean finished the last stitch. They both turned toward MJ when she whimpered in her sleep, and burrowed her face down into the collar of the jacket.

Dean limped to the small closet, pulled out a spare blanket and made his way painfully to MJ's bed, laying the blanket over her.

"Want me to look at that?" Sam asked, nodding toward Dean's leg.

"Nah. I'll clean it out, bandage it up. It'll be good as new." Dean said, pulling out his chirping cell phone. He opened it up and read the new message, his brow furrowing slightly before he snapped it closed and tossed it on the table. "Text from Jenna." He answered Sam's silent question. "MJ's therapy session got moved up to tomorrow morning."

Sam stood, making his way to the grimy mirror in the bathroom, inspecting his stitches. "Well," He said, coming back into the main room. "Hope she has lots of cover up. We're gonna need to hide that nasty bruise."

"Fuck." Dean spat, starting to pull off his jeans. "I didn't even think of that." He hissed in pain as the denim rubbed against his injured thigh.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam asked, taking one step toward his brother.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean answered, sounding more annoyed than he had intended. He took a deep breath. "Why don't you go grab us some food while I clean this up?"

Sam hesitated for a moment, eyes on MJ, before grabbing his jacket and the keys from the table. "Yeah, okay." He agreed.

Dean made his way into the bathroom and dropped himself onto the ledge of the tub, setting to work cleaning his wound. He was tired. Exhausted, in fact, and his nerves were completely shot. He was glad they had decided to head to Bobby's for a rest. He couldn't handle another case. In fact, he didn't think he could go another minute on the road with his siblings without snapping. While he carefully cleaned out the wound on his thigh, he sorted through all the shit raging inside him, trying to identify exactly what had him so close to his breaking point. He came up empty handed, and he guessed this was because it wasn't really any _one thing_. It was _everything_. Sam's refusal to see things their father's way. MJ's visions. Wendy. This demon that might be after his sister. Jenna and these God damn therapy sessions. _The_ demon. Case after case with no gratitude or reward. Dad and his disappearing acts. And why was his sister so fucking stubborn? Why couldn't she trust them? They were family after all. Hadn't he shown her he was committed to taking care of her? He would've preferred flat out rebellion to this…emotional detachment bullshit. Her blank stare and refusal to have a reaction to anything made him want to grab her and shake her until she cracked.

After taping a bandage into place over the puncture wound, Dean heaved a sigh and hoisted himself up, his leg still throbbing. He hobbled out of the bathroom, grabbing sweats and a t-shirt from his duffle bag and managed to change without further hurting his leg. He had just pulled the t-shirt over his head, when MJ suddenly bolted upright in bed, gasping for air.

"No! You can't do this! You can't!" She cried. Dean could see that her eyes were barely open and, despite the volume and intended force of her words, all Dean could hear was horror and fear. She was clearly petrified. Dean jumped up off the edge of the other bed, ignoring the stabbing pains this caused in his leg and grabbed hold of MJ by the upper arms. She turned toward him, still whimpering, but Dean saw no spark of recognition or coherence in her face.

"Hey!" He yelled, giving her a shake. "MJ! Wake up!"

She was shaking her head forcefully, her hair whipping around her face. "No! Get the fuck off me you creep!" Her hands lashed out furiously, in a desperate attempt to ward off her phantom attacker.

"Mary Jane!" Dean shouted, inches from her face. "You're dreaming! No one's gonna hurt you!" Slowly, recognition began to dawn on MJ's face, and she ceased her struggling. Dean held fast to her wrists, even after her arms went limp, as he searched her face for answers.

"Dean." She managed, as if she were just realizing he were there. Dean caught the fleeting look of relief on her face before it vanished, replaced once again by what looked like all-consuming panic. "I-" She choked out. "I didn't-" She tried again. She took a ragged breath, looking down, away from her brother's searching eyes. "Sorry." She muttered, pulling out of his hold and sliding off the bed. "Shower." She said quickly, still not looking directly at Dean, as she grabbed her bag and headed toward the bathroom.

And that was that.

Dean felt something click in his brain, and the flood gates bursting, threatening to give way. He stood, some small part of him realizing that if he started this, things would change for good. He took a ragged breath, warring for control of his emotions. He felt his control slipping away and there was a split second, when MJ walked by him, that he could feel his arm reaching out to take hold of her. What he would do once he had her…he hadn't worked that out yet. Then before his brain could fully make the decision to follow through and force her to stay in the room and face this shit, the bathroom door had clicked shut and she was no longer with him.

Dean turned abruptly and strode to the front door, letting himself out, without ever making the conscious decision to leave.

* * *

><p>MJ emerged from the shower, preparing for the onslaught of questions from Dean that would certainly start as soon as she opened the door. She had anticipated the interrogation and prepped herself for how she would respond. Damage control. She couldn't tell him anything. Why couldn't he see that? She ran a few scenarios through her head, for how this could play out, and not in one of them did she see herself giving in and telling Dean what it was he wanted to know. Not in this lifetime. She could never…and he would have to accept that.<p>

She felt the familiar panic begin to bubble up inside of her as she ran a comb through her hair. He wasn't ever going to stop. He would pry and pry until…well, until she went nuts trying to fend him off. Same with the therapist. She had gotten dangerously close to the truth during their last session and if MJ's experience with counselors had taught her anything, she knew that tomorrow night, the therapist would pick up exactly where she had left off. Then when MJ refused to divulge her past, she would report back to Jenna…who would report to the Judge.

MJ gripped the edges of the sink, her knuckles going white from the effort. When she found herself staring at her own reflection and actually contemplating leaving to avoid Dean's inevitable demand for her confession, she nearly screamed. _Leave_. She could barely even process what that meant.

But she could almost feel the walls closing in around her if she stayed. The pressure from every direction forcing her to collapse in on herself. She could barely breathe just thinking about it. It was like choosing between a slow and quick death, both equally painful. If she stayed, it would feel like prolonged suffocation. She'd eventually be forced to leave, but at least she'd be with her family for a little longer. If she left…it would be like ripping her own heart out. It would be quicker, but the pain would linger, probably forever…but she'd be able to function. Not well, but she'd be breathing. She'd survive, but it would mean leaving Sam and Dean now.

She gritted her teeth, hating her weakness. Hating that in order to survive and spare herself the shame and despair of being found out she was willing to consider taking off. And a moment ago she had thought she couldn't hate herself more than she already did…

How the hell had it come to this?

She blew out a long breath and hastily began to dress, refusing to think about it anymore. It was too much. She needed something else to occupy her thoughts. A distraction. She needed to get out of this room and away from Dean for a while.

MJ cracked the bathroom door, listening intently for a moment. She was met with silence. She opened the door further, scanning the room and finding it empty. She breathed a sigh of relief as she pulled out her cell phone and dialed.

"Hey. Are you home? I need to talk to you."

* * *

><p>MJ's fist pounded on the door, making her sense of urgency obvious. She scanned the hallway as she waited, running her fingers nervously through her hair. Seconds felt like hours as she stood there, waiting, her thoughts carefully controlled, her brain shying away from anything too deep, too complicated.<p>

When he opened the door, she barely registered his handsome, albeit confused face, before she pounced on him, enveloping him with her arms, her lips pressed firmly to his. She used his surprise to her advantage, pushing him backward into the apartment so she could kick the door shut with her right foot, never breaking the kiss.

Patrick's shock gave way very quickly to interest and pleasure, and MJ could sense his own need taking over, pushing his reservations and lingering questions way down where they couldn't interrupt them. His hands went to her face, holding her there, breathing her in.

When she finally broke away, pulling back a few inches, she was careful not to look him directly in the eye. She ran her fingers through his curly, dark hair, something she had thought about doing since she laid eyes on him.

"Wow. Uh, Maureen, right?" He asked awkwardly. "You said on the phone that you needed to talk to me…" A booming bark made her jump and turn to her right, taking in the massive dog who was eyeing her suspiciously, tail wagging like mad.

"Tyson, hush." Patrick scolded him before turning back to MJ. She still wasn't looking him in the eye, but was staring determinedly down at her hands, resting on his chest. He opened his mouth to ask her something and she quickly leaned up, covering his mouth once again with hers, effectively silencing him. This time she didn't relent, kicking off her shoes, and tearing at his t-shirt, her tongue forcing its way into his mouth. She continued to push him backward blindly; her only thought to continue kissing him. She felt relief sweep through her when he pulled her t-shirt up over her head and pulled her to toward the bedroom.

* * *

><p>Where the hell could she have gone?" Dean shouted, pacing back and forth in the motel room. His limp becoming more pronounced with each step he took.<p>

Sam bit back the urge to tell Dean to sit down before he did permanent damage to his leg.

"I mean I was literally _feet_ from the door! How did she get by me?"

Sam held up his hands. "Dean, you gotta calm down, man. This isn't helping anything."

Dean just glared at Sam and continued his pacing.

Sam looked around the room, searching for some sign of where MJ could have gone. He spotted her duffle bag in the corner, near an arm chair. "Look." He said, crossing the room and picking up the bag. He pulled her purse from the duffle and her wallet from within the purse. "She wouldn't have gone far without this stuff." He pulled open the wallet, showing Sam the contents. "$200 and her fake ID's. If she was leaving for any length of time she would have taken these. She plans on coming back." Sam reassured his brother.

Much to Sam's relief, Dean finally lowered himself down on one of the beds, stretching his injured leg out in front of him. He pulled out his cell phone, hurriedly typing a text. "I'm gonna kick her ass when we find her." He threatened, before flipping the phone closed and shoving it back in his pocket.

Sam cautiously approached his brother. "Look, Dean," he began, his voice purposefully calm. "You screaming at her and threatening her, that's not gonna help. When we track her down you're gonna have to keep your cool."

Dean struggled to his feet, facing his brother, his eyes hard and jaw set. "I tried it your way, Sammy, and look where it got us. No more. When we find her I'm laying it all on the line. And she's coming clean. If I have to _beat_ it out of her she's coming clean." Dean's voice was quiet, but there was no questioning that he meant business.

Sam shook his head. "Don't be ridiculous, Dean-"

"I mean it, Sam. I'm done playing games. You said give her space, don't confront her. I did that and now she's gone!"

Sam bristled. "I'm not the one who let her sneak out from right under my nose." Sam threw back.

"She wouldn't have had to sneak out if you were with her; you probably would've just let her walk right by you!"

Sam just shook his head, taking a moment to get his anger under control. "Look, let's just focus on finding her."

Dean just stared at Sam for a moment before lowering himself back down onto the bed.

"Where in Lincoln would she go if she just wanted to get away from us for a little while?"

Dean just looked up at Sam, frustrated. This was going to take a while.

* * *

><p>As far as distractions went, Patrick was outstanding, MJ thought, as she lay in his bed, wrapped in his arms. She felt his breath tickling the back of her neck, as he drifted off to sleep behind her. She didn't know exactly what time it was, but she was sure it qualified as the middle of the night. She was content enough in that moment to prolong her distraction. To pretend for a couple short hours that this was her life. That she belonged here, lying comfortably in this beautiful man's arms, her biggest worry what she was going to wear the next morning. She yawned, turning over, and snuggling into Patrick's chest. She was already in a world of shit with Dean. What was two more hours?<p>

Patrick's arms tightened around her as she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

><p>MJ woke just as day was breaking. Patrick was still sound asleep beside her as she stretched and wiggled her way out of his grasp. He grunted sleepily.<p>

"Where ya goin'? Come back to bed." He whined.

MJ smiled down at him as she gathered up her clothes off the floor and headed toward the bathroom.

"I'm just going to grab a quick shower and then I have to go. Go back to sleep." She said, forcing a smile.

Patrick intended to drift back off for a few minutes, but the incessant buzzing had other ideas. Patrick rolled to the edge of the bed, scanning the floor for the source of the noise. He reached down, grabbing up the cell phone. He stood, planning on bringing the phone to Maureen when the new message on the screen caught his eye. It was from someone named Dean and it was all in caps. Apparently Dean was pissed.

"IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE IN THE NEXT THIRTY MINUTES YOU WON'T LIVE TO SEE 16."

Patrick stopped dead in his tracks, halfway to the bathroom. "Won't live to see 16." He muttered to himself, rereading the message. He looked up at the closed bathroom door as he heard the shower turn on. "You've gotta be fucking kidding me."

Patrick walked back to the bed and sat down, dazed. He looked down at the phone, scrolling back to the main screen. Eleven missed calls. One new voicemail. He glanced back at the closed bathroom door before dialing. He put the phone to his ear, waiting for the message to play.

"Mary Jane Hansen, this is not okay. You hear me? Do you understand how dangerous it is for you to be off God knows where on your own? This is reckless and stupid and I expected more from you." There was a pause and a heavy sigh. "Please call me. Wherever you are, it doesn't matter; I just need to know you're safe."

Patrick felt sickened. Not only didn't he know who the hell this girl really was, but he was pretty sure she wasn't legal. And whoever this Dean was, he was worried sick about her, searching frantically for her.

Before he could think twice about it Patrick scrolled through the missed calls and dialed Dean's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Mary Jane? Where are you?"

"Uh-" Was all Patrick could manage. He really should have thought this through.

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before Dean responded.

"Who the hell is this?" Dean asked his voice deadly.

"Uh-" Patrick repeated, fear creeping up on him at Dean's words.

"Where the hell is my sister?" Dean demanded.

"She-she's here. She's safe." Patrick managed.

"Put her on the phone. Now."

"I, uh-she's not really available." He said lamely.

There was a tense silence for about ten seconds. "I don't know who I'm talking to but if you don't tell me where my sister is right this second I'm going to track you down, rip out your lungs, and feed them to you."

"Okay, just-relax. She's fine."

"Don't you fucking tell me to relax. Is this some kind of game? Who the fuck are you and what did you do to her?"

"Whoa." Patrick stood quickly, trying to figure out how exactly this conversation had gone so badly for him. "Your sister is fine. She just showed up here and-" He swallowed audibly. "She told me she was a college intern when I met her, ya know. She even showed up here with guys with badges. I didn't know she was fifteen, okay?" He defended.

Dean took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. "What is your name and where are you?" He managed.

Patrick paused for a few seconds, but saw no way around this one. "Patrick Kane." He admitted, rattling off the address. "I promise she's okay." He tried. "I swear I thought she was older."

"You'd better both be there when I get there." Dean said before disconnecting.

MJ emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later, toweling her hair. She saw Patrick sitting on the edge of the bed, ram rod straight, her phone in his hand. He didn't look up when she came into the room.

"What's going on?" She asked, approaching him slowly.

He raised his head slowly, his expression somewhere between anger and disgust. He held up her phone. "I just talked to Dean. He says 'hi'." He said.

_Oh, boy_.

"College intern, huh, _Maureen_?" He asked, standing up.

"Look," MJ began, "I can explain."

Patrick took a step toward her, folding his arms across his chest. "You can explain why this guy is calling your phone freaking out and demanding to know where his _fifteen_ year old sister is?" He demanded angrily.

MJ shook her head, at a loss. There was no point continuing to lie now. It was too late. She looked up at him, surrender in her eyes, but said nothing.

Patrick took another step toward her his face softening as his eyes ran over her face, taking in the ugly bruise that covered her left cheek. He let out a frustrated sigh. "Are you in some kind of trouble? Because if you are I can help you. I mean, if this Dean guy is-"

"No, no." MJ shook her head. "It's nothing like that." She cleared her throat. "Look, I'm sorry I lied to you." She held her hand out for her phone. "I'll just go. I won't be any more trouble to you."

Patrick held the phone at his side. "You can't leave. Your brother is on his way here."

MJ's eyes bugged out. "You told him I was here?" She asked, her voice going high with panic. "What else did you tell him?" She snatched up her shoes, quickly sliding them on and making her way to the window to peek outside.

"Nothing," Patrick answered, eyes on her. "Just that you were here and that you were safe."

MJ let the curtain fall back into place, rushing out of the bedroom. "I've gotta get out of here."

"No way." Patrick said, beating her to the front door. "I told him you'd be here, I'm not telling him you took off again." He stood in front of the door, blocking her exit.

"Patrick, let me by." MJ demanded, now panicking.

They were interrupted by an insistent pounding on the door.

"Patrick Kane?" Dean's booming voice sounded from the hallway. "Open the God damn door!"

"Shit!" MJ whispered harshly, looking desperately around the apartment for an escape.

Patrick gave her an apologetic look before pulling the door open and stepping to the side, recognition dawning when he looked up at Sam and Dean standing in the doorway.

Dean stepped inside, sparing Patrick a quick, murderous glance before walking quickly toward MJ, who stood, frozen, beside the living room couch. She stared at Dean as he approached her,

fear in her eyes.

Dean said nothing, only staring at her, completely livid. He grabbed her by the upper arm, squeezing harder than was necessary and essentially dragging her toward the door.

"Ow! Dean!" She complained, wincing at the vice-like grip he had on her. Sam stood inside the doorway, taking in the scene, not daring to object to Dean's behavior.

He didn't let up, and she lost her footing as they reached the threshold, stumbling over her own feet, and nearly being pitched face first to the floor.

A pained whimper escaped her lips as Dean held fast to her arm, and roughly yanked her back to her feet before continuing to haul her out the door.

Patrick followed them out into the hallway. "Hey, come on man, take it easy." He admonished, standing behind Dean.

Dean turned quickly, retaining his grip on MJ, and with his left hand, snatched up a handful of Patrick's t-shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"Don't." He said simply, his face a mask of fury that made it clear that Patrick did not want to get involved in this. Dean shoved Patrick against the wall before letting him go and turning his full attention back on MJ. Sam stood in the open doorway, watching, anticipating this getting completely out of hand.

Dean shoved MJ against the opposite side of the hallway wall, making her teeth chatter together. She kept her eyes open wide, and while she could feel both Sam and Patrick watching her intently, she couldn't look away from Dean's eyes. Anger. Frustration. Disappointment. Worry. Exhaustion. Fear. They were all there.

Dean just stared into her eyes for what felt like minutes, his left hand still wrapped around her upper arm, holding her there. Her arm ached painfully and his nails were digging into the skin. Finally, when MJ thought she couldn't take the anticipation any longer, Dean cocked his right arm back, his hand forming a fist, his eyes still locked on hers.

"Dean!" She heard Sam shout, as she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for the blow to make contact.


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: Hello, hello! I hope you enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it. I think it's my favorite so far:) Thanks!**

MJ heard a loud bang, followed by plaster breaking close to her head. She opened her eyes, looking slowly to the left and taking in the hole in the wall where Dean's fist had gone through it. She turned her head back, once again catching Dean's eye. His expression was still murderous, his breathing fast, but he finally released her arm and turned, walking quickly toward the exit, shaking his head in outrage.

MJ turned toward Sam, whose eyes were wide with shock as he looked back at her. "We're leaving." He said shortly, holding out his arm, telling her to lead the way. He left no room for argument.

MJ spared Patrick one final apologetic look before heading out the door.

Sam looked back at Patrick, holding his hand out for MJ's cell phone.

Patrick handed it over; looking up at Sam's pissed off expression.

"I didn't know…" Patrick said weakly, as Sam turned to walk away.

"I don't care." Sam snapped, not bothering to turn back as he made his way out the front door. He would've liked to stay and interrogate this joker. How could he _not_ tell she was underage? Never mind that she had been passing for early twenties for the last several months, in Sam's mind, this was no excuse for Patrick taking advantage of his sister. But Sam didn't have time for that right now. Dean was angrier than he'd ever seen him and he didn't know what to expect from him. He needed to be there to mediate. He heaved a sigh as he approached the Impala, both siblings already seated inside, staring straight ahead, not even acknowledging the other's existence.

_Yeah_, he thought, _this is gonna be fun._

* * *

><p>No one said a single word as they drove back to the motel. Dean cut the engine and got out, leading the way to their room radiating hostility, his gait fast and determined. Sam and MJ followed him into the room, standing in the doorway, watching Dean as he flew around the room, tossing things here and there. He pulled out the laptop, opening it and placing the web cam on it. Then he turned, gathering up the duffle bags and finishing packing them hastily.<p>

"Your session got moved up." Dean called out without looking at her as he zipped the last duffle closed. "We'll be in the car." He gathered up all the bags and waled toward them, still not making eye contact with either sibling.

MJ bit her lip, her heart racing. She had forgotten all about the God damn therapy session. This was truly the very last thing she needed right now.

"Put some make up on those bruises." Dean said, shouldering past her, averting his eyes.

MJ chanced a look up at Sam, silently pleading with him not to make her do this right now. Sam looked back at her, sympathy in his eyes, but told her with a quick shake of his head that he couldn't intervene on her behalf. Not this time.

Dean seemed to sense, rather than see this exchange. "Sam, now." He spat, not turning around as he headed out the door.

Sam ground his teeth together when he saw a single tear run down MJ's cheek as he handed her her cell phone. "We'll be right outside." He told her, following Dean out the door.

MJ let a sob escape her throat as she stood there, alone, unable to move. After a minute or so of crying, she took a deep breath and set about composing herself, pushing all of the pain and fear down inside as best she could.

Ten minutes later, MJ was seated in front of the laptop, the webcam on.

"Hello, Mary Jane," Tricia began, smiling widely. "How have the last few days been?"

MJ thought about all that had gone on in the last 72 hours. Hell, in the past 12 hours. She smiled, hoping it didn't look forced. "Fine." She lied.

Tricia nodded her head. "Anything you'd like to say before we get started?"

MJ shook her head silently. She expected Tricia to pry, but instead the woman gave a small smile.

"Okay." She said, glancing down at her notebook. "Where did we leave off last time?" She looked up. "I think we were talking about traveling with your brothers and how you were doing with that."

MJ looked at the woman, confused. As she recalled, they hadn't talked at all about her current situation, moving from place to place. MJ decided to let it go, though. Therapists were weird like that. Maybe she had jotted it down in her notes as a reminder to bring it up during their next session or maybe this was one of those reverse psychology things they used to get their patients to talk about things they didn't want to: pretend they had already brought it up.

Tricia looked up again, smiling again at MJ. The smile didn't reach her eyes. "So how are you doing with that? Moving around so frequently?"

MJ shrugged. "I guess I'm getting used to it. Doesn't really bother me." She wasn't really lying, either. So far she'd been quite content to pick up and leave a place before they'd even really gotten settled.

"Don't you miss having a home?" Tricia's eyebrows shot up; as if she were shocked MJ could possibly be okay with this transient lifestyle.

MJ was quick to answer. "Wherever my brothers are is home. It doesn't matter where we go." This time it was the absolute truth, and she didn't even have to stop to think about it. This realization devastated her. She really _did_ consider them her home, but that didn't mean she could stay…

"Yes, but isn't there anywhere you consider your home? A real, physical place? Somewhere you would go right now if you and your brothers had the choice?"

Well, she had certainly never come across this technique before. Normally her therapists would latch onto her response and dissect it, asking her why she thought she felt that way, except in about twenty different ways. She's never had someone challenge her responses like this. And while Bobby's came to mind immediately, she was suspicious enough with this line of questioning not to divulge that information.

Tricia leaned forward, the smile faltering. "Oh, come one. You've gotta land somewhere. You can't run forever."

Okay, something was definitely off.

* * *

><p>Dean drummed the steering wheel, a persistent, impatient rhythm, Sam seated beside him trying his best to tune it out as they both stared at the closed motel room door. Neither was expecting any activity from the room any time soon, but as there was nothing else to occupy them, staring down the door seemed like their best option.<p>

Fifteen minutes in, Sam shifted in his seat. "We gotta do something different, man. This isn't working." He said eyes still on the motel room door.

"Ya think?" Dean asked sarcastically. He shook his head. "I really don't want to talk about it, Sam, okay?" There was a note of authority in his voice. Sam ignored it.

"I think we _need_ to talk about it, Dean." He gestured toward the motel, and his sister, "We can't keep doing this."

Dean finally turned toward his brother. "I said I'm not talking about it!"

Sam just stared at Dean for a moment, saying nothing.

Dean sighed, running his hand over his face. "Look." He said, "I need to regroup. If I try to deal with this now…" He trailed off, the maniacal look in his eyes telling Sam that he wasn't currently capable of a rational conversation. "We'll head to Bobby's. It'll give us some time to sort out this giant clusterfuck we've gotten ourselves into."

Sam knew that was all Dean was going to say on the subject, so he let it drop. He really couldn't expect much more from his brother right now. "Okay." Was Sam's only response as they settled back in to watch the closed door.

After about twenty minutes of this, Dean's cell chirped, breaking the silence that had settled over them again.

Dean pulled it out, checking the display. Chicago area code. He groaned, flipping the phone open.

"Hello?" He answered, trying to sound like he wasn't on the verge of murdering someone.

"Dean."

That one word put Dean immediately on high alert. It sounded broken, frightened and pained all at once. Dean sat up straighter in his seat.

"Jenna, what's wrong?" He asked urgently, his eyes still glued to the motel door.

"I don't know- something's not right." She managed. Dean heard tears in her voice.

Dean's heart was hammering in his chest. "Jenna, you gotta tell me what happened." He insisted, trying to keep his voice calm. He could feel Sam's eyes boring into him, alarmed at Dean's tone.

She whimpered. "He tried to make me do things." She said, barely a whisper. "He got inside my head. Tried to make me call you and tell you to come back here. He wanted MJ."

Dean's blood ran cold. "Who, Jenna? Who did this?"

"I don't know!" She cried, clearly at her wits end, unable to make sense out of what was happening to her. "He was…trying to control me. I could hear his thoughts. What he wanted to do to her." She took a shaky breath. "I wouldn't let him do it. I fought it and then he…was gone. I could feel him leave." She said all of this as if she was skeptical it even happened, despite experiencing it for herself.

Dean closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. So there _was_ a demon after MJ. Wendy had been right. And the bastard had possessed Jenna to try to get to her. "Are you okay?" Dean asked, truly concerned. He hated the thought of Jenna getting caught up in this.

"Fuck, no, I'm not okay. Probably never will be." She said her voice shaky. "But right now I'm more worried about MJ. When it…_left_," She struggled with her wording, never having needed to explain something quite like this before. "MJ's therapist was here. Tricia. I passed out as soon as he…it was gone. This was last evening, Dean. I just came to. My cell phone is missing and-"

"So you didn't send me that text last night?" Dean cut her off, his hand already on the car door handle, the pieces coming together in his head, giving him a sick feeling in his stomach.

"No." She answered. "Dean what the _hell_ is going on?"

Dean dropped the phone, launching himself from the car and drawing his gun at the same time.

Sam was right behind him, running toward the motel room. "Dean, what's happening?" Sam asked, afraid to hear the answer.

Dean didn't respond. He reached the door and kicked it in, not bothering to check if it was even locked. He burst into the room, gun raised, to find MJ standing, frozen in shock, in front of the computer, her chair knocked to the floor. Her eyes were glued to the screen and her face was frozen in a mask of horror. Without hesitation Dean pulled MJ behind him, standing in front of the screen, his gun raised.

The woman's eyes were pitch black and her face contorted in rage, even as she threw her head back in an evil cackle. She looked back at Dean, a horrifying smirk lingering on her lips.

"I hate to break it to you, Dean, but that gun is pretty useless in this situation."

Sam stepped forward, shoulder to shoulder with Dean, blocking MJ from the camera's view.

"What do you want?" Dean spat, lowering his gun.

She shook her head, the smile vanishing. "I'm only trying to claim what's mine, Dean." She answered as if she were being more than reasonable. "So why don't you stop trying to interfere and just bring her to me, hmm? No one else has to get hurt."

"I've got a better idea," Dean answered his voice deadly. "How about I hunt you down and send your ugly ass back to hell?"

She growled deep in her throat, and when she spoke again, they could hear the demon's true voice coming through. "She _is_ mine. She will _always_ be mine. You cannot keep us apart forever!"

"Watch me." Dean said, reaching out and snatching the camera off the lap top. Although the demon could no longer see them, he still stared out at them, through Tricia's eyes.

"Maybe I'll pay Jenna another visit." He said with a smirk. "But first I should trade this body in for something a little bigger and more intimidating. Then maybe I can convince her to help me out." He taunted.

Dean pointed a finger at the screen. "Don't you fucking touch her again! You stay away from her!" he shouted, not caring that the demon could neither see nor hear him.

Every trace of humor vanished from the demon's face. "I will find her Dean. You can't hide forever." He said before disconnecting.

Dean stood there, seething, unable to move. Sam quickly walked around his brother, snapping the computer closed and grabbing it up.

"Dean, let's go. We gotta move." He said urgently.

Dean turned toward Sam, his anger still evident on his face. A terrible possibility suddenly occurred to him. "Can he track us with that?"

Sam shrugged. "Maybe, if he's good with computers." Sam swallowed. "Or if he possesses a hacker."

Dean grabbed a still shocked MJ and pulled her out the door, Sam on their heels.

* * *

><p>Three hours of driving with no one saying a single word. Dean had called Jenna as they were leaving Lincoln and told her to take a vacation far away from Chicago and not to go back until she heard from him. They had stopped once for gas, Dean disappearing inside the gas station for twenty minutes. Sam had used that time to grill MJ about what the demon had said to her, trying to figure out what it wanted with her. She hadn't been much help. After that, Dean returned and they fell back into a tense silence. Sam and Dean were operating on no sleep, and MJ was hovering somewhere between denial and panic as she stared, stone faced out the car window, not really seeing anything beyomd the glass.<p>

They made it as far as Elk Point. Only an hour from their destination.

This is when Dean pulled the car onto the gravel shoulder of the quiet back road and threw it into park, before getting out, and walking several yards off the road into the empty field. There was no traffic and no houses anywhere nearby. The term middle of nowhere came to MJ's mind.

MJ slowly got out of the car, closing the door behind her and leaning against it. She looked up at the mid-afternoon sky. It looked like dusk, the sun was nowhere in sight, hidden by heavy, dark clouds that promised a fantastic summer storm. The air was already thick around them and thunder rumbled in the distance. The wind played across MJ's face, as she looked out at Dean, walking determinedly further into the field as if he had an important destination in mind. Sam got out of the car, standing beside MJ.

Dean stopped suddenly, jamming his hands in his jeans' pockets. He turned his head skyward.

"Fuck!" He screamed, the angry word echoing in the open space.

MJ and Sam shared a loaded look as Dean turned back toward them, making his way quickly back to the Impala. He stopped in front of MJ. Standing mere inches from her. He crossed his arms in front of him, fixing her with an angry stare. Sam tensed, but didn't move.

"I talked to Dad when we stopped for gas." He started. "I talked to him about what he said before. About sending you away." Dean shrugged. "After everything…I'm starting to think it's not such a bad idea."

No one made a sound for several seconds.

"What do you think?" he asked her, his expression unreadable.

Sam took half a step toward them. "Dean-"

Dean held his hand up, silencing his brother. He turned his head toward Sam. "I asked _her_." He said simply. Sam still looked displeased with this conversation, but didn't say any more.

"Well?" Dean asked, looking back at MJ.

She was shocked, but tried not to show it. Of course, she didn't want to go. That was the last thing she wanted to do. How could Dean even suggest it? She bit her lip, realizing where this was coming from. What had happened last night had put him over the edge. It had been the last straw and he was done now. She swallowed, feeling her heart plummet into her stomach. She had gone too far this time. Well, she wasn't going to make a spectacle of herself and beg. She wouldn't make this harder on them than it already was. She took a shaky breath, staring back at her eldest brother.

She nodded ever so slightly. "Okay." She said quietly. "I'll go."

Sam couldn't stay quiet any longer. "MJ, no-"

MJ turned to him. "It's okay, Sam. It's no big deal." She said before looking down at the ground, trying hard not to let her devastation show.

Everyone was silent. The rain began to fall slowly, a few drops wetting MJ's face. She still didn't look up.

Suddenly, Dean reached out, grabbing up handfuls of her sweatshirt in his fists, pulling her toward him. Her head shot up, looking at Dean, slightly shocked. He stared at her, a death grip on her shirt. His face had gotten even redder, his jaw clenched tight, as a muscle twitched in his cheek.

"Eight months, Mary Jane!" He shouted, fighting to control his anger. "Eight months! And in that time, I haven't pushed you. I've kept my mouth shut, every time you wake up screaming, or get all weird, and I want to grab you and shake the truth out of you!" He relinquished his hold on her – much to Sam's relief – and walked away from her, pacing a few feet in front of her and Sam. He shook his head. "You won't tell me anything! _Anything_ about what happened, what you want. After all this time, you don't trust me enough to fuckin' talk to me."

She shook her head. "That's not true, Dean." She said quietly. The rain began to pick up and thunder rumbled overhead.

"Then talk!" He strode back toward her, grabbing her by the shoulders, giving her a quick shake. "Talk to me!"

"What do you want me to say?" She shouted, tears springing to her eyes.

"I want you to tell me what you _want_! Not what you think I want, or what Dad wants, or what you think is the _easy_ thing to do. I want to know what you _really_ want!" He shouted down at her, still gripping her shoulders tightly. "Why did you say you'd go? Is that what you really want?" He asked. She squirmed out from under his grasp.

"I don't know!" She said turning away, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Tell me!" He followed her as she moved toward the trunk.

"Just forget it, Dean!" She stood there, arms crossed over her chest, her back to her brother, avoiding Dean's gaze. Sam shadowed Dean's movement toward their sister. He was torn between intervening and hanging back as he took in Dean's flushed, angry face and MJ's tense posture and red eyes.

Dean didn't even acknowledge Sam's proximity. He grabbed MJ's arm and spun her around so she was facing him. "Tell me, MJ!" He screamed.

"Stop it, Dean!" She tried to pull away, but he held fast to her.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam asked as he moved toward his siblings.

Dean put his hand up, signaling for Sam to stay out of it, while keeping his eyes on MJ. "Tell me what you want!"

"I don't know, God damn it!" She matched Dean's volume.

"Tell me!" He growled, shoving her hard against the trunk.

"I want to stay with you and Sam!" She screamed up at him, the tears now streaming down her face. "I don't ever want to leave you guys!" Her breath hitched as she sobbed, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Dean, that's enough!" Sam gave his brother a withering look as he pushed between him and MJ. He stood in front of MJ, facing Dean. "What are you doing?"

"Move, Sam." Dean said quietly.

Sam shook his head, crossing his arms.

Dean just looked up at him, his eyes softening and the anger melting from his face as his jaw finally relaxed.

"Sammy." He said calmly.

Sam considered his brother for a few moments before shifting to the side. He stood next to MJ, still watching Dean.

MJ was sobbing, brushing the tears from her face with her sweatshirt sleeve.

Dean moved forward a step. "Hey," he said, waiting for her to look up. "For the record, I wasn't gonna let you go, even if you wanted to. But I'm glad to hear you say you want to stay." He said. "And I don't ever want to hear that you _don't care_ or that it _doesn't matter_ because it does, God damn it." He placed his hands back on her shoulders, determined to get his point across. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter but just as determined. "You don't always have to silently obey and when you're upset you don't have to hide it. You're allowed to complain and have an opinion. You're allowed to disagree." He took a deep breath, keeping his hold on her. "I'd rather argue with you about the stupidest things, than have you stuff it all down inside until you can't take it anymore and you go do something stupid and get yourself hurt." MJ looked down, her eyes on the ground and Dean grabbed hold of her chin, refusing to let her look away. "I'm only gonna say this one time, Mary Jane, so listen up. _You deserve to be taken care of._" MJ saw tears swimming in her brother's eyes. Her own face was wet with a mix of tears and the rain that was now pouring down, soaking them all. Dean swallowed, taking a deep breath. "So let me take care of you."

MJ stared at Dean for what seemed like forever, trying to process all of this. She wanted it. So badly. She wanted to give in and let him worry about her and take care of her. God, it would feel so good to let someone else share the weight of the anxiety and fear and anger she was carrying around…

After what seemed like an eternity to her brothers, MJ nodded, still sniffling. Dean pulled her toward him in an uncharacteristic hug. "This is where you belong, kiddo. This is home." He pulled away and cleared his throat, looking around. "Well, maybe not this exact piece of highway, but you know what I mean." He said, the beginnings of his signature smirk taking shape on his drenched face. He turned to Sam. "What the hell are you doing standing in the pouring rain? Let's hit the road."

MJ smiled as she walked back around the car, and slid into the backseat. Sam closed her door behind her before looking over the roof of the car at his brother. "You never even talked to Dad, did you?"

Dean paused with his hand on the door handle. He winked at Sam. "You're not the only one who knows how to deal with teenagers, Brainiac. I've got some tricks up my sleeve, too."

Sam shook his head as he slid into the car. Truth was, he was relieved they'd finally had it out. It had been a long time coming, and he felt like they could finally move forward now, instead of running in circles.

Dean drove on toward Bobby's, feeling as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was still tense, worried about this piece of shit demon that was after MJ. But for the first time in a long time he felt like MJ was really going to be okay. Everything else, they'd take in stride. He drove on, breathing a little easier the rest of the way.


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: This one just did _not_ want to upload. Good thing I'm persistent;) We're coming up on the "finale" soon! Thanks for reading. Enjoy!**

Bobby pushed the swinging kitchen door open a crack and peeked out into the living room. MJ was fast asleep on the couch, just as they had left her, the Devil's Trap drawn carefully on the floor in front of her and salt lines firmly in place at all the windows and doors. He turned back toward the table, letting the door fall closed.

"_Trying to claim what's his_?" He asked the boys, who were sitting at the table, staring at the coffee in their hands, looking half dead with exhaustion and worry. "That's what he said?" Bobby finished as he took a seat across from Dean.

Sam nodded silently, while Dean grunted in agreement taking a sip of coffee before adding, "Said she _was_ his and always _would be_ his and that we couldn't keep them apart."

"Well what in blazes does he mean by that? What would make her _his_?" He asked, bewildered.

Dean finally looked up, turning his tired eyes on the older hunter. "Nothing, Bobby. She's not _his_." He bit out.

Bobby considered him carefully for a few moments before answering. "Well, I know that, boy. I'm just trying to figure out what would make this deranged bastard _think_ she belonged to him." He explained.

Dean grunted, rubbing his hand over his face. "Sorry." He mumbled. "I'm a little on edge."

Bobby made no response, looking down at the table, deep in thought. Sam watched him closely, wondering where his thoughts were taking him. Bobby knew more about demons than any other hunter Sam knew of. Bobby finally looked up, something brewing in his eyes. Sam was sure whatever Bobby was thinking, he wasn't going to like it. Which meant Dean was _really_ not gonna be happy with it. Sam caught Bobby's eye, hoping the older man got his message to tread lightly.

Bobby took a deep breath, turning toward Dean. "And Wendy didn't say when he came around the first time?" He asked.

Dean shook his head, taking a gulp of the luke warm coffee. "Only that when he came he said he'd be back someday for Mary Jane."

Bobby huffed out a breath as he stood and began pacing the length of the kitchen.

He stopped suddenly, quickly checking on MJ once more before turning slowly back to Sam and Dean.

"How much do you boys know about your dad's…meeting up with Wendy?" Bobby asked, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Meeting up?" Dean questioned, confused. His expression cleared after a moment, and he stared at Bobby, bewildered. "Bobby if you're asking us about Dad's hook up with Wendy 16 years ago, he didn't exactly share the details."

Bobby shook his head. "What I mean is," He paused, looking between Sam and Dean, clearly uncomfortable. "How sure are you that MJ is his?" He finished in a quiet voice.

This statement was met with dead silence.

Dean just stared at him in awe, his eyes hardening. He would clearly not be entertaining this conversation.

Sam on the other hand, had a faraway look in his eyes as if he had the information to draw this conclusion all along, but had just never put it together. Now that it was out there…

Dean began sputtering incoherently. He turned to his brother, expecting to see Sammy's face mirroring his own incredulity. He was shocked to see Sammy looking pensive. Dean couldn't believe his brother was actually considering this.

"Sammy-_really_?" Dean cast his eyes around the kitchen as if looking for something to disprove Bobby's theory. He looked up at Bobby. "Her eyes! Huh? They're green!" he all but shouted pointing at his own eyes. "Just like mine."

Bobby shrugged. "Green eyes are pretty common for red heads, Dean." He said calmly.

"Yeah, and your green eyes came from Mom's side." Sammy added quietly, looking cautiously over at his brother.

Dean stood quickly at this comment. "Oh, come on, Sammy! Whose side are you on?" He shouted down at his brother.

Sam raised his hand in surrender. "Hey, I'm not on anybody's side, Dean. I just want to figure this out, same as you." He said as calmly as possible. Dean was quickly escalating, and it wouldn't do any good for Sam to go there with him.

Dean shook his head before turning back to Bobby. "What about her mannerisms then, huh? Sometimes she fidgets and it's like…like she's a Dad clone!" he exclaimed with a wave of his hand.

Bobby and Sam had no response to this. Dean continued, hoping to build on his argument and win them over. "Besides, Dad's not stupid. I'm sure he did the math."

"I'm not saying your Dad wasn't with Wendy around the time that MJ was…conceived." Bobby said, looking down at the floor. "I'm just saying maybe…he wasn't the _only_ one."

Dean shook his head, waving away Bobby's words. "Look, as much as I love discussing my father's _sex life_," Dean said sarcastically, "What in the hell does this have to do with this demon?"

"Maybe everything." He answered cryptically before walking out of the room. Dean gave Sam a confused look. Sam shrugged back. Before Dean could decide whether to follow Bobby, he was back with a thick, ancient looking volume.

Bobby laid it down on the table and stood leaning over it, paging through it. Dean moved around the table to stand beside Bobby, his arms crossed over his chest, and Sam scooted his chair closer, curious what Bobby was looking for.

"These visions MJ was havin'. They started out of nowhere, what a few days ago?" He asked, still thumbing through the pages.

Sam nodded, not taking his eyes off the book.

"Here." Bobby announced, jabbing his finger onto the page. Sam took in the illustration of a small child, with an evil glint in his eyes, watching with a look of satisfaction on his face as the man standing in front of him burned alive. Sam read the caption and looked skeptically up at Bobby.

"A Cambion?" He asked. "You must be joking."

Bobby was shaking his head as he scanned the page, his forefinger running down the lines, looking for the entry he needed. "I'm not saying that she's one of these things, Sam. Besides this book's good for the basics, but it tends to fudge some of the finer points." His finger paused on a likely looking paragraph.

"Could somebody fill me in please?" Dean asked, frustrated. "What the hell is a cambrion?"

"Cambion." Sam corrected. "It's a child. The product of a demon/human mating."

Dean was shaking his head in confusion. "Demon/human-" He threw his hands up. "What in the hell are you talking about?"

"_Devilishly cunning and angelically beautiful, the Cambion will begin to display psychic abilities during adolescence that will continue to develop throughout their teenage years and become fully formed on the child's eighteenth birthday._" Bobby read from the book, ignoring Dean and Sam's exchange and Dean's question. "_Believed to be soulless and inherently evil, Cambion are characterized by pale skin, red hair and emerald eyes. It has been written that during colonial times, red headed children were often mistaken as Cambion and burned at the stake._"

"Bobby what the hell are you suggesting?" Dean asked, annoyed that he seemed to be the only one out of the loop and angry at what Bobby seemed to be suggesting about his sister.

Bobby heaved a great sigh, straightening up and looking at Dean. "It fits, Dean. It makes sense that MJ may actually be this demon's…child. It would explain why he said she belonged to him."

Dean just stared back at Bobby, his jaw clenched and face reddening. He took a step toward Bobby and snatched the book up, still glaring daggers at the older hunter. He finally broke his gaze to look down at the page Bobby had read from. He scanned it, scoffing after a moment.

"This also says that these Cambion are always male, don't breathe or have a pulse until the age of seven and grow up to be rapists!" Dean exclaimed, slamming the book back down on the table.

Bobby was undeterred by Dean's outburst. He shrugged, keeping his voice steady as he looked back at Dean. "Like I said, the finer points aren't always exactly right,-"

"Not _exactly_ right? I'm pretty sure someone would have noticed if she didn't _breathe_ for the first six years of life!" Dean interrupted.

"But enough of it fits that we need to seriously consider it as a possibility." Bobby finished calmly.

Dean looked to Sam, who had pulled the giant book toward him and was absorbed in it.

"It says here the spawn are forever linked to the demon through the human mothers. That the demon marks the mother when he is first with her so he can always find her and the child."

Bobby nodded. "So if the mother was to leave the spawn, then the demon wouldn't be able to track it down so easily."

Sam looked up at Bobby, and Dean's face burned ever hotter when he saw that his brother actually looked _excited_.

"Would explain why Wendy left so suddenly. If she figured out that his link to MJ was through her." Sam turned to Dean. "Didn't you say that Wendy told Dad that she had to leave because the demon was going to use her to get to MJ?"

Dean shook his head, exasperated. "She's a God damn crack head. Are we really going to base our theory on what she may or may not have told Dad?"

Bobby ignored Dean's comment, resuming his pacing of the kitchen floor. "So the mother leaves the spawn and the demon has to resort to other means to find her."

Sam nodded. "And of course he'd want her now, it says here the spawn begin to develop their gifts during their teenage years. He could probably feel it when she had her first vision and stepped up the hunt."

Dean exhaled loudly, running his hand over his face. "How's this? The next person to refer to my sister as _the spawn_ is gonna get my boot up their ass!" He turned and stomped outside onto the back deck, slamming the door behind him.

Dean sat on the back steps, breathing rapidly, trying to calm himself down. This was just…

He leaned forward, head in his hands, staring down at the splintered wood of the steps below him. How was one person supposed to deal with all of this shit, all at once?

He heard the door open and knew from the gait of the person walking toward him that it was Bobby.

Bobby said nothing, standing beside Dean and leaning on the railing, looking out over the salvage yard.

Dean looked up, watching a squirrel scurry up a spruce tree at the edge of Bobby's yard.

"Soulless and inherently evil, Bobby?" Dean questioned, but he was calm now, sounding more hurt than angry. "That sound like the MJ you know?"

Bobby heaved a sigh, resting his forearms on the worn wooden railing. "Shit, Dean I hope I'm wrong. Probably more than you do. But I'd be a fool not to consider this." He paused looking down at Dean, who made no response. "Worst thing we could do would be to let him catch us off guard. We learn as much as we can about this son of a gun, consider every possibility and most importantly…be ready."

They were both silent for a while, staring out over the quickly darkening yard. Dean hoisted himself up and strolled out onto the grass a few steps before turning back toward Bobby. Someone who didn't know him well might have missed the pained look that was confined to his eyes, but Bobby caught it right away as soon as Dean looked up at him. It nearly broke Bobby's heart to see him looking so forlorn.

"I don't want to consider it, Bobby. Because if it's true it means she's not-"

"Don't you even say it, Dean." Bobby interrupted, his voice full of authority. He stood up straight, pointing a finger down at Dean. "No matter what happens, she will always be your sister. Blood don't make a lick of difference and you know it."

Dean stood for a moment, just looking up at Bobby. Dean knew he was right. He just didn't want to have to deal with the possibility that his sister was part demon. And more than anything he didn't want her to have to deal with it.

Dean trudged up the steps, leaning against the railing next to Bobby. "He probably knows we're here."

Bobby nodded. "Yup. But we'll be ready for him."

Dean nodded. He turned suddenly toward Bobby, his expression serious. "We can't tell her anything about this, okay? I don't want her to have to wonder…not until we know for sure." He shook his head, looking down. "She's had to deal with so much shit lately."

"Listen, Dean. I just want you to know…about the whole McWhorter thing…" Bobby was shuffling his feet and rubbing the back of his neck like he was nervous. "I hold myself responsible for what happened. I never should have let him in the house…around MJ."

Dean was shaking his head before Bobby had finished speaking. "No. No way, Bobby. That's not on you."

"It _is_ on me. I was careless." He crossed his arms, a look of disgust on his face. "You kids should feel totally safe here, be able to let your guard down. I screwed that up."

Dean held his hands up, palms toward Bobby. "Enough, old man. You don't get to take that one away from me. That was my fuck up. I trusted the son of a bitch and I gave him total access to MJ. It's on me and that's that."

Bobby opened his mouth to argue back, but was interrupted by Sam, joining them on the deck.

"What difference does it make? What's done is done. Besides, the only person responsible is McWhorter." Sam said, strolling toward them. "Now can we move on, 'cause we've got more pressing issues than who gets to own the guilt over something that we can't change."

Neither of them made any response, other than Bobby frowning up at him and Dean rolling his eyes. Sam continued.

"Since we know he's going to come after her and it's a safe bet he knows we'd come here, we gotta assume he's gonna show here. Soon."

Dean took a step toward Sam, his irritation returning. "So what do you suggest, Sammy? We run? What's the point? He'll catch up eventually."

"No." Sam answered evenly, further annoying Dean with how calm and collected he seemed. "I think we should stay here and get ready for him. Face him head on."

Dean considered Sam for a moment then nodded his agreement.

"And I think we gotta talk about staying here for a while."

Dean quirked an eyebrow as his brother. "What do ya mean?"

Sam took a deep breath. "I mean, she needs some serious therapy, Dean. And stability. And we can't give her that on the road. She needs time to deal with all of this crap with a real professional."

"Well," Dean seemed taken aback. He shook his head, searching for a response. He settled on, "For how long?"

Sam stared his brother down. He was starting to get agitated. "For as long as it takes, Dean." He said.

"Sammy," Dean started pacing the deck. Bobby's eyes were on him, but he stayed quiet, letting the brothers sort this out. "We can't spend months here. Dad's out there tracking the demon and we got cases-"

"Dad found us, Dean, remember? And he doesn't want our help." Sam shouted. His hands were balled into fists at his sides. He couldn't feign calm and level-headedness any longer. "We don't need to drive around searching for him anymore. And as for having cases, Dean: I could give a _fuck_ about any case. This is our sister's well-being we're talking about."

Dean had stopped in his tracks when Sam started talking. He had his back to his brother, and was standing stock still, listening. When Sam finished, he spun around, anger clear in his eyes. Bobby took a step toward the boys, but still kept his mouth shut.

"Don't give me that bullshit, Sammy. Don't act like I'm just all about the cases and I don't give a shit what happens to her. I'm the one who takes care of her and I'm the one who's dealt with all of this shit."

Sam full on laughed at this. "Dealing with it? You just ignore it and hope it'll go away. And then you think that – what? If you can make her laugh that she's cured? Everything's fine? That's not dealing, that's avoiding. You're in denial, Dean!"

"Oh, get down off your high horse, Sammy, and be realistic! You really want to linger here for months? Like sitting ducks when we've got God knows how many evil bastards looking for us?"

Sam chuckled, throwing his head back. "Didn't you just say that you didn't want to run? That you wanted to stay and wait him out?"

"Yeah, I meant for a couple weeks, Sammy, until that piece of shit shows himself. I didn't mean we'd set up shop and wait for every one of those fuckers to get the memo that the Winchesters are in South Dakota!"

Sam scoffed. "You're not even making any sense." He took a step toward his brother, his arms crossed over his chest. "Why don't you want to stay here, Dean? Huh?"

"Because we've got responsibilities, Sam!"

"To who? Perfect strangers? To every civilian out there who stumbles onto something scary? No. We have a responsibility to _her_!" Sam jabbed his finger toward the house. He took a deep breath, making an effort to keep the anger out of his voice. "What we've been doing to deal with all of this shit, it's like putting band aids on bullet wounds. It's not helping her to get better and eventually she's just gonna crack, Dean. She can't go on like this." He just looked at Dean, who was carefully averting his eyes, staring out over the yard again. "And neither can we." Sam slowly closed the distance between them, standing beside his brother. "I know you want a quick fix, Dean. You want her to be better _now_. I do, too, but we have to be realistic. It's going to take time. And what you did today, on the way here," Sam shook his head, like he was in awe, "Dean, that was the best thing you could've done for her." Sam finished.

Dean scoffed, still careful to avoid Sam's eyes. "What, making her cry? Yet again."

"Making her realize what she really needed. I'm not saying it solved everything, but it was a step in the right direction."

They were silent for a moment. Bobby looked between them, waiting for Dean's final verdict. He knew Sam recognized, too, that ultimately this was going to be Dean's decision. And Bobby also knew that in the end, Sam would go along with whatever Dean decided. Even if he didn't agree with it. They stood there for what seemed like hours in the failing light before Dean finally sighed heavily.

"Yeah, fine, Sammy. I'll do whatever you want, just give the Dr. Phil shit a rest. You're making me nauseous." Dean grumbled, heading for the door.

Sam fought a smile, as he followed his brother inside. He saw right through Dean's would-be casual attitude, and he knew Bobby did as well. He shared a knowing look with the older man as they made their way through the kitchen and toward the living room to check on MJ.

"So now what?" Dean asked, quietly, taking in MJ's still sleeping form before scanning the room around her.

Sam shrugged. "Now I guess we get ready for him. And then we wait." He said.

They wouldn't have long to wait, though. Not long at all.


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: Hello, hello! Okay, a few important notes before we get to it! I changed this a little, so Dean and Sam got the Colt from John when he tracked them down in Chicago. MJ didn't know about it, and she finds out in this chapter. I also didn't include some of the action sequences from the actual Devil's Trap episode. I'm operating under the assumption that all of my readers have seen the episode and know what happens with Meg and then in Jefferson City when they rescue John. Lastly, there will be one more chapter to this story after this one. I am not ending this story where Season 1 ends. You'll see why;) If I have confused anyone please feel free to inquire. As always, thank you so much for reading. Enjoy!**

"_Hey little girl, is your daddy home? Did he go and leave you all alone_?" A deep voice sang close to MJ's ear. It was somehow familiar, and yet she couldn't place it.

"Come on, Angel. Open your eyes." He whispered so close to her ear that she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

Her eyes fluttered open, her lids feeling heavy and her vision a little foggy, cluing her into the fact that she wasn't really awake.

Okay, so she was dreaming, but something felt off. This was not a normal dream.

She scanned the room around her, discerning shapes through the misty fog. She was in Bobby's living room, on the couch. She could make out the shape of a man. He was standing, facing her, his arms hanging loosely at his sides. He was dressed in ripped jeans and a t-shirt, and yet something in his posture made her think this was not his typical wardrobe. He took a few steps toward her, only working to convince her further that he was more sophisticated and powerful than his casual clothes suggested.

He approached her slowly, almost cautiously, and MJ was able to make out his face. He was young, maybe just a couple years older than Sammy. And despite the fact that her heart was jumping in her chest from fear and that she knew this was some weirdly lifelike dream, she couldn't help but notice that he was attractive. His face all sharp angles, defined cheek bones and masculine jawline. His hair was long, chin length, and lighter than Dean's. She stared up at him, not able to look away from that face.

When he reached the couch he knelt down in front of her. He stared at her, his eyes roving over her, not in a sexual way, but more like he was trying to take it all in…memorize every detail of her. He took a slow breath before looking into her eyes.

"Hello, Mary Jane. It's been a long time. Too long, in fact." He said in a honey smooth voice that matched his demeanor.

MJ lifted her head slightly from the pillow, but made no other attempt to move. She knew this was a dream. And she was equally aware that this man was not her ally. Experience had taught her not to assume anything, so she had to expect that he could hurt her, even in her subconscious.

"This is just a dream." She said in a harsh whisper, not really a question, but also not really convinced it was true.

He nodded slowly. "It is a dream," He answered placing a hand on her cheek. His palm was warm and calloused. "You know who I am, don't you?"

And although she couldn't really put her finger on it, she _did_ know him. Without a doubt. His face, his voice, his body…none of it was familiar in the least. But his demeanor, his words, and the way he seemed to know her so intimately…it made him as familiar to her as her brothers. She nodded slowly, inciting a wide smile from him. He moved his hand to her head, brushing her hair back, away from her face. "I knew you would," he said, pride clear on his face, "Even in this body, I knew you'd know me. How could you not?"

MJ slowly sat up, her eyes never wavering from his face. "Why are you here? In my dream?" She asked.

He straightened, sitting beside her on the couch, turning toward her. "I needed to speak to you. And I can't find you." He shook his head slowly looking down, away from her questioning gaze. "I should apologize for my behavior yesterday. I became enraged. I have no excuse, other than to tell you I only acted in such a disdainful manner because I so need you back." He looked back up at her, his eyes burning into hers. "I miss you. It's time for you to return to me."

MJ was transfixed by this strange man. She wanted to scream, to run away, to wake up, and yet all she could do was stare into those eyes.

When she remained silent he continued, in the same calm, even voice. "I'm not looking to hurt anyone. I need you to tell me where you are, and I will come get you." He took hold of her hand, squeezing gently. "I'll take care of you. Always."

MJ stared back at him for another moment before finding her voice. "I know you. But _how_ do I know you?" She wasn't sure she was making any sense, but she was so confused. How could someone who she didn't know at all seem so familiar to her? Like someone she had known her entire life?

"I think you already know." He answered patiently. "I was there with you for most of your childhood. I would watch over you while you slept as an infant." He gave her hand a firm squeeze, taking a deep breath. "I had to leave when you were still growing. When you still needed me. But it couldn't be helped. When I was able to come back to you, I was too late. Your mother had already left you and I could no longer locate you and make sure you were being cared for." He looked down again, shaking his head. "I am sorry you have suffered. Truly, I am." His eyes met hers and she saw excitement and determination there. "But I'm here now. And you will suffer no more. You and I…we will be together. And you will achieve your full potential." He placed his hand under her chin. "_And you will be happy_." He promised. "All you have to do is tell me where you are and agree to come with me."

MJ felt the tears well in her eyes. "I've met you before." She choked out. "You used to talk to me. Keep me company when Mom left me alone." She swallowed a sob as the memories flooded back.

He nodded, the smile still on his lips. "Yes. Never in this form, but I did come to you. When you needed me. After all, it is my job. My purpose for living."

"You're a demon." She verified.

"I don't deny it."

She felt her pulse quicken. "Why me?" She asked, barely more than a whisper.

He slid off the couch, kneeling in front of her. "You must trust me." He begged in earnest, taking both her hands in his. "You and I are connected. You are a part of me. I created you, Mary Jane."

She shook her head, the tears now falling down her face. "You created me? What are you saying?"

He gripped her hands more tightly. His voice becoming more urgent. "You know you are special. And I can help you hone your gifts. Learn how to use them to keep yourself safe." He searched her face. "To keep your family safe."

She looked into his eyes. She didn't see deceit there but she also didn't see sincerity. All she saw was a burning need. A need for her to understand, to join with him.

He stood suddenly, looking down at her. His face remained calm, but his eyes were cold. "Mary Jane, the time is right for you to join me. It must be now. I cannot allow you the luxury of time to become accustomed to the idea. I know your brothers will fight to keep you from me. And I have no qualms about killing them, except that I know this would upset you. If you come with me of your own accord, you have my word that Sam and Dean will remain unharmed."

"Come with you where?" She squeaked.

"I brought you into this world nearly sixteen years ago knowing that you would grow to be incredibly powerful. I can help you use that power for good. You can help so many more people if you let me teach you how to control it."

She stared up at him for a long time. Finally she swallowed, looking into his burning gaze. "You're my father?"

* * *

><p>MJ was woken abruptly by someone lifting her up off the couch. Her eyes flew open as she was swiftly carried up the stairs and into a bedroom. The dream was still fresh in her mind, but the tension in Dean's body was enough to alert her that something was up. Something big. The dream would have to wait.<p>

"What's wrong?" She asked, now wide awake as Dean set her down on the bed, cringing, no doubt from the pain in his still injured leg.

"We got company." Dean answered, checking the salt lines at the windows and doorways.

MJ stood. "He's here?" She asked, her mind quickly running through the possibilities and landing on the demon who was after her, the demon from her dream.

Dean shook his head once, hand on the doorknob. "Meg."

"Meg? I thought she was dead?"

"Apparently it takes more than a fall from the fifth story to kill a demon." He raised a hand pointing at her. "Don't leave this room." He ordered, opening the door. "No matter what." He added, eyes locked on his sister.

"Dean-"

"No!" He interrupted urgently. "I don't have time to argue with you. We can deal with this, but I can't concentrate if I'm worried that you're in danger. I'm sorry, but I forbid you to leave this room. Got it?"

MJ fought the tears that were springing to her eyes. She nodded. "I'll stay here, but Dean-"

"I'll be careful, I promise. We'll be okay." He attempted a smile that came off as more of a grimace before walking out and pulling the door closed behind him.

* * *

><p><em>Chicago, Illinois May 5, 2002<em>

"_Hey, Marijuana! Your head's on fire!" Donnie Landon called across the playground. The laughter started small, then grew, starting with the small knot of boys gathered around Donnie on the jungle gym then spreading out across the schoolyard. MJ suspected that most of them only laughed so as not to draw attention to themselves and become Donnie's new target. _

_MJ rolled her eyes, turning around to see Donnie lazily making his way toward her. She stood her ground, letting him come to her, hoping no one saw how her legs were shaking violently in her second hand jeans. _

_As if reading her thoughts, Donnie looked down at her legs when he reached her, snickering. "Nice pants. "He teased. "It's bad enough to be a ginger, Marijuana. But a poor ginger? That's just pathetic."_

_This was met with more laughter, and MJ could feel her face burn crimson._

"_I bet your poor cause your Dad took off. He probably took one look at you and ran. Everyone knows Gingers' have no soul."_

"_Just like everyone knows Landon's have small penises." MJ retorted, her voice surprisingly even._

_This stopped the laughter short, everyone turning to stare wide eyed at MJ. She had never said a single word back to Donnie, always quietly taking his abuse, silently praying for it to end soon. _

_After a few moments the laughter resumed, only this time they were laughing at _him_. MJ felt her confidence soar. Maybe she could pull this off._

_Donnie's face was beet red. "What'd you say to me?" He demanded loudly, taking a step forward so his face was only inches from hers. He swiftly reached out, grabbing a fist full of her hair and yanking._

_MJ knew this was her chance. What had Dean said to do first? She tried to remember. What seemed like minutes, was probably really only a few seconds before MJ stomped hard on Donnie's foot. When he stooped down in pain, releasing her hair, she punched him hard in the gut. When he doubled over, groaning, MJ didn't hesitate. She brought her knee up swiftly, smashing it into his nose. She heard a sickening crack before blood gushed out, and Donnie fell-hard-to the ground._

_It was completely quiet on the playground now, with the exception of Donnie's muffled groans, issuing from behind his hands that were clasped tightly over his broken nose._

_MJ stood over him, her chest heaving, staring down at him. She knew she'd be in trouble, but at that moment she felt something she'd never felt in her life: strong._

_Her mother had lectured her the entire train ride home, but MJ didn't care. In fact, she had to fight to keep the victorious smile from returning to her face. She kept her head down, staring at her feet as they made their way into the apartment._

_John met them in the living room. _

"_What the hell happened?" John demanded. She looked up at him. He looked angry. His arms were crossed in front of him and he was frowning down at her. _

"_I'll tell you what happened," Wendy ranted, dropping her purse onto the table. "She _broke_ a kid's nose! And she got suspended for a week!"_

_Wendy looked up at John, waiting for him to admonish MJ for her bad behavior._

_He was silent for a moment, considering MJ carefully. "Why?" He finally asked her._

_MJ looked back down at her feet. "He was teasing me. Every day."_

"_Teasing you how?" John asked, taking a step closer to his daughter. _

_MJ shrugged._

"_Mary Jane."_

"_He stole my lunch. And he kept pulling my hair and calling me names." She chanced a look up at him and found that he didn't look so angry anymore. She pressed on. "I was sick of it." MJ had never been disciplined by John. Mostly because she rarely did anything to warrant punishment. She didn't know what to expect, but she felt compelled to explain herself._

"_John, what difference does it make. She beat the boy _bloody_!" Wendy fumed._

"_Well, if she was only trying to protect herself…"_

_Wendy turned to MJ. "Go to your room." She ordered._

_MJ quickly obliged, hearing Wendy lighting into John before MJ even had her door closed. She turned toward her bed, feeling suddenly exhausted, but stopped when she saw Dean seated on the edge. He was leaning forward, arms resting on his knees, hands clasped together. And his face was alight with what was unmistakable pride as he smiled at her._

_MJ stood there, rooted to the spot, taking in every second of it. She had never seen that look on her mother or John's face before. Never._

"_You did good, kid." He said quietly. _

_MJ smiled sheepishly back at him, her face growing flushed._

_Dean stood, walking slowly past her to the door, ruffling her hair on his way by. MJ didn't turn, but heard the door close behind him and knew he had left. She closed her eyes, picturing that look on his face. She'd never forget that look. Never._

* * *

><p>MJ felt like her head was spinning as they drove along the dark, dirt road to who knows where. With her father lounging next to her on the back seat, looking exhausted and near death, this felt more surreal than the dream she'd had earlier. She had lost the concept of time, somewhere outside of Jefferson City, shortly after they had rescued their father. She supposed it was the middle of the night, judging from how dark the sky was.<p>

MJ watched John drifting in and out of consciousness. She studied him in the minimal light, trying to find the traits that she shared with him, that would prove she was his. The truth was that she didn't really know this man at all. He was never more than a visitor who brought her presents every now and then. He was absent more than not and he never really showed her any of the affection she saw bestowed upon her peers by their fathers. She was petrified that he might not be her father, but this was not because she loved this man like a father. She did love him, but she had no real attachment to him. No, she needed him to be her father, because if he wasn't then she was the child of a demon. And this she could _not_ deal with. She could survive knowing that John didn't love her like he clearly loved his sons. She took this in stride, knowing that regardless of John's indifference toward her growing up, he and his boys were still her family. And what John lacked in attentiveness, Sam and Dean made up for. Not to suggest Dean was in any way paternal toward her when they would visit. On the contrary, being eleven years her senior, Dean would mope around, clearly annoyed his father had forced him to come along. He had no interest in bonding with a preschooler, and he went out of his way to make it known. But as the years wore on, Dean began to tolerate her, and the boys eventually would even include her as much as they could. When she was nine they had taught her to play Five Card Draw, much to John's dismay. When she was eleven Dean had shown her how to take down Donnie Landon, the giant bully who kept stealing her lunch. This had earned her a week's suspension despite having a squeaky clean record. Apparently being a model student didn't count for much when you broke another student's nose. She remembered the look on Dean's face when Wendy has relayed the news after picking her up from school. He had been so proud of her. She didn't think she'd ever forget that moment. This was the second reason MJ needed John to be her father. Because if he wasn't then Sam and Dean weren't her brothers. That possibility broke her heart.

She thought about what this demon had said to her in her dream. About wanting to keep her safe, and how he wouldn't hurt Sam and Dean if she went with him willingly. He took her for an idiot. She knew the calm, patient demeanor was an act, meant to give her a false sense of security, make her feel safe with him. First of all, this behavior was completely at odds with his performance when he was possessing Tricia. During that time, he was mean and vicious, and she had a feeling that that was the real demon. Second of all, he was a frigging demon. When did demons ever have noble intentions?

She had fully intended to tell Dean and Sam about the dream, but she didn't have a chance. Ever since she was woken from the dream they had been running. The truth was that she was dreading telling them. She didn't want to have to tell them that she might not be their sister. But she didn't have any choice. She'd have to tell them soon. Before it was too late.

They pulled up to an old, abandoned cabin and Dean cut the engine. Sam and Dean hurried to help John inside while MJ grabbed the bags from the trunk. Once inside, Sam got John settled in the bedroom while Dean and MJ set about laying the salt lines and drawing the Devil's Traps at the doors and windows.

"So if Dad gave you that Colt in Chicago, how come I didn't know about it?" MJ asked Dean. The gun in question was tucked safely into Dean's waistband at the small of his back.

Dean shook the spray paint can, taking aim. "It's a pistol that can kill demons, vampires and pretty much every other nasty thing we hunt. The less you knew about it the better. Even knowing it exists makes you a target." He explained.

MJ nodded, placing the container of salt on the countertop. She turned back toward Dean. "Dean, I need to talk to you about something."

"Shoot." He said, capping the spray paint can and turning toward her.

MJ opened her mother, but before she could say anything, Sam walked out of the bedroom. Dean turned toward him.

"How is he?" He asked.

"Okay. Just tired, I think. He's asleep."

Dean nodded. "You think anyone followed us out here?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so."

Dean was pulling knives and guns from one of the duffels. MJ knew the chance to tell them was passed, so she dragged herself to the musty smelling couch and tried to find a comfortable position.

"You saved my life back there." Dean said suddenly, not looking up from the weapons he was laying out.

Sam looked up at him. "So I guess you're glad I brought the Colt then, huh?"

Dean finally looked up at his brother. "I'm trying to thank you here, Sam."

"You're welcome." Sam said simply.

They were silent for a moment, Dean still standing at the table, and Sam making his way to the couch. He stood over MJ motioning for her to move her legs so he could sit. She rolled her eyes, lowering her legs to the floor. Sam sat down, pulling her legs onto his lap. MJ smiled up at him, earning her a smirk.

"Hey, Sam?" Dean said, back still to them. "You know that guy I shot?" Sam didn't respond, looking up at his brother. "There was a person in there."

Sam paused, shaking his head. "You didn't have a choice, Dean."

"I know." Dean said, finally turning toward them, but still not looking up, as he polished a knife. "That's not what bothers me."

"Then what does?" Sam asked.

"Killing that guy, killing Meg." Dean answered, all of his attention focused on the knife in his hand. "I didn't hesitate. I didn't even flinch." He blinked, turning back toward the table, away from his siblings. "For you, or MJ, or even Dad, the things I'm willing to do...to kill…it scares me sometimes."

"It shouldn't." They all turned to see John standing in the bedroom doorway, leaning against the doorframe for support. He took a few cautious steps toward them. "You did good." He said, eyes on Dean.

Dean put the knife down on the table, turning toward his father. "So you're not mad?" He asked.

"For what?" John asked.

Dean shrugged. "Using a bullet." He answered as if it were obvious.

"Mad?" John asked incredulously. "I'm proud of you." He moved a step closer to Dean. "You know, Sam and I, we can get pretty obsessed. But you watch out for this family. Always have."

Dean ducked his head. "Thanks." He mumbled.

There was a sudden rumbling from outside, that shook the walls and rattled the windows. Dean picked up the knife again and Sam tightened his grip on MJ.

"It's here." John said. "It found us."


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

"Sammy." Dean stated, not needing to say any more. Sam nudged MJ's legs off of his lap, pulling out his gun as he stood. He turned to MJ.

"Stay by Dad." Sam ordered her quickly as he and Dean made their way to the front door.

MJ made no argument, making her way quickly across the room to stand beside her father.

"Dean, bring me the gun, son. Quick." John said urgently. He turned to MJ, sparing her a brief glance, before returning his gaze to Dean who was heading toward them. "Don't worry, Mary Jane. We're gonna be okay." He placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly.

The room dissolved from around her as her legs gave out and she fell to her knees. The roaring began and this time, it did not relent. The images flicked in front of her eyes more quickly than ever before: her father with hate filled yellow eyes, Dean shoving her behind him as John reached out toward him, a calculating smile on his face, Dean falling to his knees, the light going out of his eyes as blood trickled down his chin, John grabbing the gun from Dean's lifeless hand.

MJ could feel that the vision was not over, but seeing Dean like that…she wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing her sides as hard as she could, pinching the skin for all she was worth. And somehow it worked. The vision stopped and while everything around her was washed out and fuzzy, she forced her way out of the weird, semi-conscious state and back to the surface. A feral rasp escaped her lips as she forced her unwilling body to stand and shoved out blindly in front of her at the approaching figure, knowing it was Dean, shoving him as hard as she could. He stumbled backward, probably more due to shock than her actual physical strength. She squinted her eyes, determined more than she had ever been in her entire life about anything, to alert them of the danger that was right in front of them.

"Don't give it to him, Dean! He's not Dad!" She snarled. "Stay back!"

She felt John's hand at her elbow. "Mary Jane, what are you saying? What just happened, are you sick?"

MJ yanked her arm free, moving quickly away from him and toward Dean, who was standing two feet in front of her, an alarmed expression frozen on his face. MJ shoved at Dean's chest, which didn't even really seem to faze him.

"Move away from him, Dean. Please!" She looked up into Dean's face, the tears streaming down her cheeks only working to make her vision worse. "It's the demon." She whispered harshly. She swayed on the spot, the growing pain in her head threatening to pull her under. She fought it, hell bent on alerting her brothers to the danger she knew they were in.

"Dean, what the hell is going on with her? We don't have time for this, son. Give me the gun. Now!" John ordered irritation clear in his voice.

Dean stood in front of MJ, frozen in indecision. He was staring over her head at John and MJ knew he was trying to decide who to believe. Sam was standing next to Dean, also searching John's face, hoping to find the answers there.

Very suddenly, Dean's expression cleared and he quickly took a step forward, shoving MJ behind him as he drew the gun on John.

John's eyes grew wide in surprise, but he remained still. "Son, what the hell are you doing?" he asked calmly.

Dean took a deep breath, gun trained on John, his other arm curling around MJ's waist, holding her behind him. "Dad would've been furious that I'd wasted a bullet." He said simply. "He wouldn't be proud, he'd tear me a new one."

Sam inched closer to his siblings, eyes trained on John.

"Dean." John said, his voice cold and urgent. "We're running out of time. Give me the Colt." He held out his hand. "Now."

Dean's hand shook slightly, but he kept the gun trained on John. "I know my Dad better than anyone and you're not him." Dean spat.

John considered Dean for another moment before turning his attention to Sam. "You know, we don't have time for this. Sam, if you want to kill this demon, you have to trust me."

Sam looked from John to Dean and back again. Dean stayed quiet, sparing his brother only the briefest glance.

"Sam, please." John begged.

Sam looked back at John, the uncertainty blazing in his eyes. A small noise, somewhere between a whimper and a sniffle from MJ, made Sam turn toward her. One look at her face, as she stood, encircled in Dean's outstretched arm, trembling from head to toe, and Sam knew. He closed the short distance between himself and his siblings and crossed his arms, facing John.

"No." He said firmly.

John just stared back at them for a moment.

"Fine." He said finally. "If you're so sure, then kill me."

He continued when no one made any response. "Go ahead, Dean. Shoot me. This is your chance." He held his arms out wide, as if waiting patiently.

Dean never lowered his gun, but his finger never moved toward the trigger either.

John looked down, shaking his head.

"I thought so." He said. He looked up at them, an eerie grin on his face, his eyes blazing yellow and sinister. Dean stumbled back half a step, shoving MJ as he went, before he was thrown against the far wall, Sam following close behind him.

Dean grunted and tried in vain to move as the demon stooped and picked up the abandoned Colt from the floor. MJ stood frozen on the spot, face to face with the demon.

He smirked, pointing a finger at her. "_You_, little girl, have been almost as much of a pain in the ass as this gun has." He slowly walked around her, looking her over. "No offense, but I don't see what all the fuss is about." He picked up a lock of her hair, bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply, making Dean and Sam struggle even harder against their invisible bonds.

MJ took a shaky breath, turning her eyes up to meet his. "Let my brothers go and get out of my father." She rasped.

His only response was to throw his head back and laugh, as he strolled across the room toward Sam and Dean.

"It's you isn't it?" Sam said through clenched teeth, gasping for breath and fighting for all he was worth against the force holding him against the wall. "We've been looking for you for a long time." He spat in disgust.

John held out his hands, a nasty grin on his face. "Here I am."

MJ made her way slowly toward the door, praying she didn't draw the demon's attention before she made it there. She was trembling from head to toe and could barely stay on her feet. A floor board creaked when she was feet from the door and, his attention still trained on Sam and Dean, the demon gave a lazy flick of his wrist, sending MJ flying backward. Her back met the wall opposite her brothers with a bang, sending pain coursing through every inch of her as the invisible bonds took hold.

"I'm gonna kill you." Sam hissed.

The demon chuckled. "Oh, that'd be a neat trick. In fact," He set the Colt down on the table beside him, a nasty grin on his face. "Here. Make the gun float to you, there, Psychic Boy."

Sam looked over at the gun, desperation plain on his face. The demon laughed when nothing happened and moved a few steps closer to the boys. "This is fun." He said with a sigh, before the smile faded and he turned serious. "You know, your dad's in here with me. Begging." He moved closer to the boys, is face close to Sam's. "It's pathetic."

MJ was watching him taunt her brothers, struggling for all she was worth. When the demon began tearing at Dean, ripping his torso to shreds, MJ screamed out, tears of frustration and agony streamed down her face. A surge of hatred and fury coursed through her and suddenly MJ was able to move. She stumbled forward a step, nearly falling to the floor before catching her balance. The demon was too busy torturing Dean to notice. Amidst Dean's screams of pain and Sam's shouted pleas, no one noticed or heard MJ moving forward. She picked up the gun from the table, and swung it around, not taking the time to aim, knowing the demon was killing Dean. MJ fired in the general direction of the demon, the bullet catching him in the leg.

The demon fell to his knees for a moment before collapsing onto his back. He groaned, grabbing at his leg. Sam and Dean were freed from the wall, and Dean immediately collapsed to the floor, barely conscious while Sam quickly moved forward, Sam taking the gun from MJ and training it on their father. The siblings huddled over him, waiting for his eyes to open. MJ was trembling, shocked at what she'd done. She was silently praying for him to open his eyes and at the same time terrified that he would.

"Ohhh." He groaned, opening his eyes. MJ's legs nearly buckled when she looked into the brown eyes of her father.

John took in the gun in Sam's hand before locking eyes with his son. "Sam, shoot me in the heart. Do it. He's still in here, I can feel him. Kill me son! I can't hold on much longer!" He groaned again, his eyes pleading with Sam.

Sam held the gun on John, his hand trembling for another moment, before John's mouth opened, expelling a cloud of black smoke into the air.

The next ten minutes were a blur, as Sam and MJ struggled to get an unconscious and bleeding Dean and a barely conscious John into the car.

They had loaded Dean into the back seat, and Sam was now practically dragging John along, MJ following behind him, when Sam stopped suddenly.

"MJ, the Colt." He said.

"I'll get it, just get Dad to the car!" MJ yelled, already running back to the cabin. She had snatched the Colt off the floor where Sam had abandoned it in his haste to help his brother and father. She turned to head back out the door and slammed into someone. She fell backward and was caught just before she hit the ground by a pair of strong arms. She froze, dropping the Colt. She was staring up into the eyes of the man from her dreams. The man who had said she belonged with him. The man who said he wanted her back.

A smile played at the corner of his lips, and his eyes were alive with victory.

"Finally." He said.

Then everything went black.

* * *

><p>"Sam, go back! Go back now!" Dean grunted from the backseat. He could barely hold his head up, but managed to insert some authority into his voice.<p>

"Dean, you'll bleed to death. We have to get you to the hospital." Sam said, all the while fighting the urge to turn the car around. He had gone back in after MJ once John was in the car, to find the Colt on the floor by the front door, and MJ nowhere to be found. He had stood, frozen in panic for all of 5 seconds before snatching up the Colt and running flat out back to the car. "I'll get you to the hospital and go back. I'll find her. And then I'll find that son of a bitch and kill him." He took a deep breath, looking over at John. "Everything will be okay."

Sam was blinded by lights a second before a semi-truck plowed into the Impala.

SPNSPNSPNSPNSPN

"Dean? Dean, can you hear me?"

Dean recognized Sam's voice, but couldn't make his eyes open, couldn't make his body respond in any way. He tried to remember what had happened…how he had ended up in such horrible pain…he played it back in his mind...they were in the cabin and the demon was coming. Dad wanted the Colt. MJ had another freakin' vision…and Dad…Dad was-

His eyes flew open and with a gasp he sat bolt upright. He instinctively reached for the tube in his nose, intent on yanking it out, when Sam grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Take it easy, Dean. You're okay. Just lie back down."

"Dad." Dean croaked. He didn't need to say any more. Sam understood.

"He's in the next room. He's okay. The demon…I thought it was gonna kill you, Dean." He took a ragged breath. "I mean, I really thought-"

"MJ?" Dean asked, urgently, suddenly noticing her absence from the room.

Sam clenched his teeth, his jaw muscle jumping uneasily. Dean saw unmistakable terror in Sam's eyes.

Dean sat back up, ignoring Sam's hands on his shoulders trying to push him back down. "Where is she?" Dean demanded, panic rising inside him. "God damn it, Sam, answer me!"

"I was trying to get you guys to the car. You were both bleeding so much, and then I realized the Colt was still inside." Sam ran a hand through his hair, a tortured look on his face. "I sent her back inside for it…and she never came back out." His voice cracked and he backed away from Dean's bedside. "I'm sorry, Dean."

Dean barely heard Sam's apology. Blood was rushing through his ears, his heart pounding like crazy in his chest.

"I went back last night, as soon as you and Dad were out of the car, I rushed back, but…she's not there. I have no idea where she went."

"I know where she is." Both boys turned at the sound of John's voice, not even bothering to hide the tears shining in both their eyes. John was leaning against the door frame, clearly struggling just to hold himself upright. He was pale as death, and the look of anguish on his face matched his boys' perfectly. He took a ragged breath, looking between his sons.

"He found her."


	42. Chapter 42

**Okay, here's the final chapter for You'll Accomp'ny Me. I'm planning to begin the second part of the story very soon. hope you all enjoyed reading this. Thanks:)**

**Chapter 42**

"Mary Jane."

MJ stirred, his warm breath tickling her jaw line as he breathed her name, his face so close to hers that his lips brushed her ear.

"Come on, baby. Time to wake up."

MJ was close to fully conscious, but squeezed her eyes closed as tight as possible. She knew that voice. This was all too familiar. His voice. His scent. The excitement radiating off of him. Except this definitely wasn't a dream. This was real. And MJ had never been so frightened in all of her life.

He caressed her head lovingly, like a father gently cupping the head of his newborn baby. "Mary Jane. You're safe. Open your eyes."

He retreated and MJ could sense that there was a distance between them now. He was still there, she could tell. But he had moved away. This unnerved her and she opened her eyes, just a little, squinting at the room around her.

Her first thought was that perhaps this actually was a dream, because she was sure a room this immaculate and comfortable could not exist in real life. Everything was pristine and white. The carpet. The walls. The curtains billowing in the soft breeze floating in from the balcony. The sun was shining into the room, warming her, and she could hear…waves? New panic rose inside her at realizing she had no clue where she was. She squeezed her eyes shut again, fighting back the tears, taking a deep breath, before fully opening her eyes and looking around her once again. He was there, standing across the room, his stance relaxed, and his arms at his sides. He was trying to appear politely benign, but it did not reach his eyes. They gave away his excitement. The gleam of anticipation in them as he stared at her was akin to ecstasy, and MJ knew a whole new level of fear and discomfort. It didn't matter that he had not so much as touched her or that she knew he had no intention of hurting her like Carl, or any of those other men had. And even though she knew his intentions were in no way sexual, that he had no immediate plans to cause her any physical pain, looking up at him now, standing across the room, silhouetted by the sun streaming in the window behind him, MJ saw him for what he was: a predator. And not just any predator. The worst kind.

MJ took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. She tried to look relaxed; lying there on her side, looking up at him with what she hoped was a politely curious expression.

"Why do you want me?" She asked. Hoping it sounded like a simple question, void of accusation.

He smiled kindly down at her, taking a slow, cautious step forward. He reached out slowly, as if trying not to frighten her, and brushed a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. "Maybe I should show you."

* * *

><p>With one swift swing of Sam's arm, Dean's water pitcher went flying off the table and across the room. Sam was so red in the face, that Dean was worried he might have a stroke.<p>

"Sammy-" Dean hissed as he sat up in bed, cursing the damn IV that tugged at his arm with the movement. "Just calm down, okay?"

"He's going after the demon, Dean! MJ's been kidnapped! You can barely stand! And all Dad can think about is getting his revenge!" Sam had taken to pacing the length of the room at the foot of Dean's bed. He shook his head, his shaggy hair falling into his eyes. "This is so typical of him." He spat with disgust.

"Come on, Sammy. You always get like this with Dad. You guys are always at each other's throats. Now you don't know why he asked about the Colt. You just assume the worst because that's what you guys have always done."

Sam stopped, hands on his hips, facing his brother. "You know what? I am _sick_ of you sticking up for him."

"Yeah? Well, I'm sick of always having to get in between the two of you!" Dean shouted. "Now why the _fuck _are you wasting time having a hissy fit, when we should be out there, finding our sister?!" Dean bellowed, finally succeeding in yanking the IV out of his arm. "Mother-"

"Excuse me!" a nurse admonished from the doorway, looking between Sam and Dean, clearly disapproving. "What is all the shouting about?" She moved to Dean's side. "Mr. Johnson, _what_ have you done?" She asked picking up the ruined IV. She shook her head, looking very much like a mother of small children at her wits end with their behavior.

Sam turned away, still fuming, while the nurse checked Dean's vitals. She gathered up the tubing and discarded needle and looked between them. "I'll be back to fix this." She said, clearly a warning.

The nurse walked swiftly out, leaving silence in her wake. Sam remained with his back to his brother. The interruption seemed to have taken the steam out of both of them, anxiety and dread taking its place.

Dean heaved a sigh. "Look, Sammy- we're gonna find her, okay?"

Sam turned around, not quite looking at Dean. "How? I mean, where do we even start, Dean?"

"Where we always start." Dean said, trying to sound calm and confident, which were two things he definitely was _not_ at the moment. He swung his legs off the bed with some effort. "Research, Sammy."

* * *

><p>"John, John, John…" the demon shook his head, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Making deals with demons? What would your boys think?"<p>

John made no acknowledgement of the demon's taunt. He stood his ground, taking a deep breath, the Colt grasped firmly in his hand. "It's a good deal and you know it. You get the gun and I get my daughter back." John tried to sound cool and collected. On the inside he was screaming. Every second that son of a bitch had MJ…every second's worth of torment and terror and pain she endured at his hands, was like an agonizing lifetime to John. He didn't think he could bare another minute of wondering what he was doing to her…what he had planned for her…he swallowed, focusing all of his energy on not flipping out and losing it.

"Let's just suppose I'm generous enough to do this." The demon said casually, considering John with a slight smirk on his face. Tracking them down, killing this thing…it won't be easy. You would really need to make it worth my while."

John was quickly losing patience. "Meaning what?" He snapped.

"Meaning," the demon said, taking a step toward John, staring him in the eye. "You'll need to sweeten the pot."

* * *

><p>MJ could barely breathe. She was rooted to the ground in front of the grimy window. She didn't know how she had gotten here, or where <em>here<em> was for that matter. One moment she was lying on the bed, the demon standing over her, reaching out toward her. The next she was standing on the fire escape of an unfamiliar building, looking into a bedroom. She knew he was behind her, watching her for her reaction, but she didn't care. She only had eyes for the little blonde girl on the other side of the window. She watched intently as a man sat beside her on the bed. A familiar horror flooded through MJ as the man reached out a hand, slowly placing it on the small child's thigh. MJ felt her blood boil when she saw the look of fear on the girl's face.

She barely registered the demon's hand on her shoulder. "Can you feel it?" He whispered in MJ's ear. "_Can you_?" He repeated his voice full of ill-concealed excitement.

MJ didn't know what he meant, nor did she care. Her focus was still on the child. Then the little girl looked up at the man, and MJ saw it. Unmistakable shame in the little girl's eyes. And all at once she knew exactly what he meant. She _could_ feel it. It felt like a fire, heating her body from the inside out. It started in her stomach, and spread, until she felt as if her fingertips were aflame. And somehow, instinctively, she knew what she could do. She reached up, placing her hands flat against the glass, staring hard at the man. His reaction was instantaneous, and MJ heard the cry of joy from the demon as the man on the other side of the glass clutched his chest, agony etched on his face as he collapsed onto the floor. Seconds later he stopped moving all together and his eyes remained wide open and lifeless. MJ stood there, shocked by the knowledge that she had just made that happen…somehow.

"You know how." The demon practically hissed in her ear, as if reading her mind. "Deep down, you know how you were able to save that child."

His choice of words jarred her out of her shocked silence. "Save her?" She repeated in disbelief, her gaze locked on the dead man lying on the floor at the child's feet. "I killed a man." Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't _save_ anyone."

The demon grabbed her shoulder and roughly yanked her around so she was facing him. He took a step forward, pinning her between his weight and the window. "You stopped a grown man from violating a helpless child, from taking from her what he has no right to take. You did this world a favor by disposing of him." He reached up slowly, wiping a tear from her cheek before taking hold of her chin. He stared into her eyes for a long moment before speaking again. "I know _you_ understand that." He said slowly.

* * *

><p>Dean was in his hospital room, attempting to dress himself so he could get the hell out of there. Sammy had left to do some recon on the demon that had their sister. He would be back in 30 minutes and the plan was that whether he'd found a lead or not, they were hitting the road and finding MJ. Of course, whether that 'we' included their father remained to be seen since he hadn't shown his face all morning. Dean shook his head, thinking about refereeing that argument if John didn't agree with the plan. Sammy was dead set on moving, and Dean couldn't really argue. He wasn't good at sitting around and wasting time on any case. When it came to MJ his instinct was to move, even if they had no idea what direction to move in. Dean was painfully pulling on a shirt when there was a soft knock at his door. There was a short, disheveled looking woman standing in the open doorway.<p>

"Can I help you?" He asked, looking up at her as he buttoned his shirt.

She took a small, cautious step into the room. Her eyes were wide and she had a strange, panicked expression on her face as she hesitantly approached him.

"Dean." She said her voice barely above a whisper.

Dean's hands froze and he stared wide eyed at the woman. He could see it now. Behind the haunted, sunken in eyes, the sallow skin, the shaking hands. Beneath the ragged, baggy clothes. She looked so much older and thinner than last time he'd seen her. She was barely recognizable until he noticed the resemblance she bore to his sister.

"Wendy?" He asked disbelief plain in his voice.

She stood there, halfway across the room, chewing her lip, her fingers fiddling with the cuffs of her dingy, too big sweatshirt. She never really looked him in the eye as she spoke. "I know he took her. I know-" she swallowed audibly, frantically looking around the room, her eyes darting aimlessly. "You gotta find her."

Dean continued to button his shirt, feeling the rage washing over him, drowning the shock and making it nearly impossible for him to think. His hands shook with the effort of keeping his temper under control and he could barely finish buttoning his shirt. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly, finding this did nothing to calm him down. _Okay_, he thought, _it wouldn't help MJ right now if I beat this woman to death. It would only slow us down. Not to mention, she is a woman, and you've never hit a woman in your life_. Another deep breath. He looked determinedly at his hands, not daring to look at her. _Besides, look at her. She's so strung out she looks like she's knockin' on death's door anyway…of course maybe just a little push would help get her to the other side faster_, Dean found himself thinking. He shook his head. _Dude, you gotta keep it cool_. He finally looked up at her with her head down and her eyes still darting around the room. She looked truly pathetic and if she were a stranger to him he would've no doubt taken pity on her. Then something occurred to Dean and he took a step toward her.

Wendy immediately flinched and moved back a step, cowering like a dog who knew a beating was coming. She still didn't look at him as she spoke, her words rushed and agony clear in her voice. "Please, do whatever you want to me, I don't care, but just find her. You _have_ to find her."

Dean stood frozen in front of her for a moment. "How do you know he has her?" He demanded.

Wendy continued to chew on her lip, a tortured look in her eyes. She was silent.

Dean's hands curled into fists at his sides and he took another deep breath. "Wendy." He all but shouted. "Tell me how you know. Right now."

Wendy whimpered, looking around frantically for an escape.

Dean shook his head, quickly losing what little patience he had. "You're not leaving here until all of my questions are answered and by God I will get answers _any way I can_." He paused, making sure she knew he meant what he said. "Now tell me how you know."

She took a ragged breath and focused her eyes on the floor. Her hair fell like a filthy curtain in front of her face. "I could feel it. I knew the second she was with him."

"What do you mean you could feel it? Like a feeling that MJ was in danger?" Dean asked thinking of stories he'd heard about mother's sensing when their children were in danger. Somehow he wasn't buying that Wendy had that much of a maternal instinct.

Wendy was shaking her head. "I can feel _him_." She barely whispered. "I've always been able to feel him." She ran a shaking hand through her knotted hair. "He's really happy right now, but…" her head dropped again, her eyes on the floor.

"But what?" Dean yelled down at her.

She finally looked up at Dean, desperation in her eyes. "But he's losing patience with her."

* * *

><p>They were back in the white room. MJ was sitting stock still on the edge of the bed, exactly where she had sat before they'd left. The demon was pacing in front of her. His hands clasped behind his back, his expression carefully void of emotion.<p>

"Do you see now how valuable your gifts could be? How truly extraordinary you are? You and I could help so many people together."

MJ was staring straight ahead, replaying what she had just done over and over in her head. She had taken a human life. She was horrified, disgusted. Yet, there was another feeling there, overshadowed by the guilt and disdain, but still there. She couldn't name it, but it made her feel…powerful…like no one could ever hurt her again. Like she was almost invincible.

"When you're with me your full potential is realized." He paused in his pacing and turned to face her, leaning down so he was eye to eye with her. "And I can help you become even stronger. You could become so much more powerful, Mary Jane. Saving that precious little child was only the beginning. You could do so much more." He took hold of her face in both hands. "You could be stronger than all of the things you and your brothers hunt combined. More fierce than any evil dwelling in the dark. _You have that inside of you. You only need to embrace it_."

There was silence for several moments, the demon still holding her face. Mary Jane looked into his eyes as his words tumbled around inside her head. _Powerful. Extraordinary. Fierce. Evil._

"People would be afraid of me." She said, a tear sliding down her cheek.

"You would be revered, respected. Only those who harbor ill will toward humanity would have reason to fear you."

He sat beside her on the bed. "All you have to do is say yes. You'll never be a victim again. You will never feel powerless or weak. Imagine never having to depend on someone to save you." He leaned in close to her. She could feel his breath on her cheek as he whispered, "Never needing someone you love to risk their life for you."

MJ felt a shiver run through her. He was good. He knew what would get her attention. What would appeal to her the most: a world where she would never be a burden to Sam or Dean or her father again. A world where she never had to rely on anyone but herself…

The tears were streaming down her face now as she stared straight ahead. And as she contemplated the possibility that what he described could be real, she heard a voice in her head, clear as day.

"_You know you're safe with me, right?... I just don't want to see you get hurt… They're not taking you. They can try, but it's not gonna happen. … Take it easy, Kid. It's gonna be okay, I promise… You know that if something is bothering you, anything, you can tell me and I'll take care of it… We're not gonna let anything happen to you, okay? Whatever this thing is, it's not going to get anywhere near you… Like I told you before we want you here, MJ… I may not have planned on having you along for the ride and I definitely wouldn't have chosen this life for you. But now that you're with us, I wouldn't have it any other way. You're not going anywhere as long as I have a say in it… I'm only gonna say this one time, Mary Jane, so listen up._ _You deserve to be taken care of. So let me take care of you… This is where you belong, kiddo. This is home._

And this time she really _heard_ Dean…and she knew that he meant it all those times he told her she belonged, that he would always take care of her no matter what. That she was safe with him and Sam.

In that moment, the demon's intentions became as clear to her as if she had had a vision. Looking into his eyes, she could see him molding her into his weapon, using her to frighten other demons into following him. He wanted to use her to gain power and destroy anyone who stood in his way.

The demon was silent now, sitting stock still beside her and she knew he was waiting for her answer. She took a shaky breath, her entire body trembling as she turned slowly to face him. He was staring back at her, his eyes shining in anticipation. She swallowed, looking silently up at him, unable to make her voice work. He slowly reached out, cupping her cheek with his hand and wiping away her tears.

He leaned down, his face inches from hers and whispered, "Just say the word and I'll make it happen." He leaned further so his forehead was resting on hers. MJ closed her eyes, shivering. "Mary Jane," he said, barely audibly. "_I am your future_."

MJ took a breath, slowly opening her eyes. She steeled herself, her heart pounding madly in her chest. She held his gaze for a long moment before speaking. "Never." She said with as much conviction as she could muster through the haze of fear and panic.

There was dead silence for a beat. She saw the light in his eyes go out. His expression turned murderous and in one quick movement he was standing over her. The careful façade was gone and MJ had only a second to register that he was going to kill her before he flicked his wrist and she was flung to the wall behind her, the force causing the paintings there to rattle. The breath was ripped from her lungs and she found herself pinned there, unable to move even her pinky finger. She watched him closely, and while he didn't appear to move, he was suddenly standing right in front of her. His right hand flew out, clasping down on her throat. She gasped for breath as he leaned into her.

"You'll join me, or you'll die." He spat, a vein in his neck bulging out and his eyes pitch black. "You'll die," he repeated, "but not before you watch me skin your brothers and father alive!" He squeezed harder and her head swam as she was overcome with terror. "You'll beg me to let you die when I'm through!"

She was beginning to grow faint when suddenly a man appeared behind the demon. MJ's vision was blurred both from the tears and from being on the verge of unconsciousness, but she watched as the man lazily waved his hand, as if swatting at a fly and the demon released her, his eyes growing wide with shock as he took a step back away from her.

MJ crumpled to the floor sucking in air as quickly as her burning throat and lungs would let her. She lay there in a heap, trying and failing to pull herself to her hands and knees. She turned her head, looking up at the men standing in front of her.

The demon was now standing beside MJ, his back against the wall. He looked up at the man who had appeared in awe.

"Azazel." He said, reverence in his voice, his head slightly bowed.

The other man took one step forward, his expression almost bored. He reached out his hand and touched the demon's forehead. Almost instantly the demon collapsed, landing beside MJ on the floor.

MJ scrambled away from him, looking up at the man who was now staring down at her. That's when she noticed his eyes…yellow. She gasped, trying like hell to get to her feet, to get away, but she couldn't. He moved toward her, leaning down, nearly smiling as he crouched down in front of her. He considered her carefully for several moments, looking her over, making MJ shiver with unease.

"Well." He finally said. "Today's your lucky day, kid." He reached out suddenly and before MJ could react, everything went black.

* * *

><p>"Okay, here's the deal!" Dean had to shout to be heard over Sam and his father who were one step away from an all-out brawl in the middle of Dean's hospital room. Wendy was standing in the corner, biting at her nails, looking frantic. Dean moved between Sam and John, a hand on each of their chests. He turned toward his father. "Sam and I are going, Dad. That's that. You can stay here if you want, but I cannot sit here another <em>second<em> while she's out there with that thing, having God knows what done to her." John opened his mouth, but Dean spoke over him. "I won't!"

John stayed quiet as Dean grabbed up his duffel bag and turned to Sam. "Sammy, let's go." He said.

Dean turned toward the door, intent on walking out without another word to his father. He was pissed and he knew any more talking and he would say something he'd really regret. Dean was nearly out the door, Sammy following behind him, when Wendy's scream stopped him dead in his tracks.

* * *

><p>MJ was disoriented. She didn't know where she was and she was far too weak to move. She was able to register that she was lying on a cold floor before she heard a loud scream and was scooped up off the floor and pulled into a tight embrace. She still couldn't open her eyes as someone rail thin held her tightly and cried hysterically in her ear.<p>

"Oh, baby, thank God!"

And through the exhaustion and confusion MJ recognized that voice.

"Mom?" She forced her eyes open and saw Sam and Dean standing over her in shocked silence. Her gaze shifted to John who was across the room. Peering over Wendy's shoulder she locked eyes with him. He smiled, looking relieved, as he took a step toward her. MJ gave a weak smile back wanting to reach out to him, but not able to make her body move. Suddenly John stopped short, his expression becoming saddened, the color leaching from his face. MJ watched in horror as the light left her father's eyes and he collapsed to the floor.


	43. Chapter 43

I wanted to make sure that everyone who followed this story knew that the sequel, "Hey, hey. My, my." Is now up! Happy reading


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